Mr Bueller Goes to Washington
by Bob Wright
Summary: After witnessing a fellow classmate confront a U.S. Senator on the last day of school, Ferris decides to make sure the senior class trip goes to the nation's capital. Now, Shermer High's coolest kid is on a mission, with his friends and new allies, to expose the senator's secrets...and of course have lots of fun along the way. Washington will never be the same.
1. Ferris's Last Day of School

MR. BUELLER GOES TO WASHINGTON

BY

BOB WRIGHT

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ferris Bueller's Day Off and all related characters and indicia are registered trademarks of Paramount Pictures Corporation and the John Hughes Estate or whatever similar entity would apply. And now, as always, sit back and enjoy the story.

* * *

"Those moments. Those once in a lifetime moments you remember for the rest of your life. The moments where you know you've crossed a threshold from which there's no going back. This is one of them: the very last day of school."

With a deep grin, Ferris Bueller rolled onto his back on his bed and stared dreamily at his ceiling in the early morning light. "Thirteen years I've waited for this moment. The day I wouldn't have to worry about going to school anymore. Now it's here," he declared out loud, as if somehow narrating to an invisible person in the room, "How do I feel? Glad, of course; school's too much of a drag to not be glad to see it go. But leaving behind the world you've known for so long...well, even for someone like me, that's a little hard. To say goodbye for good to all those familiar faces you've become friends with, to know most of them you'll only see at reunions from here on...yeah, it's a little hard. But, like all things in life, it's something we've got to do. Especially with the world waiting for you. Now in my case..."

There came a knock on the door. "Ferris, breakfast's going to be ready in about five minutes," his mother stuck her head through the door.

"Right, I'll be down in a flash, Mom," Ferris gave her a thumbs-up and hauled himself out of bed. "I'll also admit, part of me will miss the home environment here after I move on to college, knowing I won't be able to pull things as easily in the real world as I have here," he continued his pseudo-narration to seemingly no one in particular, "And even though they have to be the most gullible people on the planet, fact is, my parents have been good to me, and I will miss them," a slightly crestfallen look crossed his face. He quickly shook it off, though, with a grin and, "But, the real world waits for no one, and running from it isn't going to do anyone any good. So might as well charge right into it and see what happens."

He dressed quickly and bustled downstairs into the living room, making straight for the sofa, which was covered with several large blankets. "Cameron, rise and shine, it's last day of school time!" he declared grandly, shaking the blankets. There was a low groan underneath them. "Do I really have to get up now, Ferris?" came the almost frustrated voice underneath, "I was just having the greatest dream I've ever had, that I strapped my dad into the Ferrari and shoved him and it over the Grand Canyon. I want to keep reliving it."

"Perhaps tonight, my friend; right now, we are just eight hours away from the end of school as we know it, and you don't want to miss that, do you?" Ferris urged him. With another groan, the blankets slowly toppled to the floor. "Figures my good dreams can't last," Cameron Frye grumbled, rising up and wiping his eyes.

"Morning, Cameron," Mr. Bueller, coming down the stairs himself, greeted Ferris's friend, "Have a good night sleep?"

"Yeah, thanks, Mr. Bueller," Cameron cracked a small grin. "You probably already guessed, Ferris, but I wish it could have been like this for longer than just a few months," he confessed to his friend, "Finally, here, I feel like I'm really home. And now, it's going to have to end again..."

With a sad shake of his head, he lumbered upstairs to get dressed. Ferris nodded softly. "If you've been wondering," he spoke out loud again to some imagined audience, "Cameron's father didn't take the Ferrari being wrecked well at all. In fact, he pulled a gun and went on a rampage. Thank God nobody got hurt; Cameron locked himself in the closet and called the cops, and they got there in time. Now Mr. Morris Frye is Illinois inmate number 45-2349 for the next five years on reckless endangerment charges-a bit cruel to take in, perhaps, but given the man loved his car more than his son, perhaps hard time'll teach him a good hard lesson on life. The funny thing is, without her husband to scream at anymore, Cameron's mother had a nervous breakdown and had to be institutionalized. Oh, she'll be all right in a couple months, but it strange to think all the hate for Cameron's father kept her sane. Anyway, my parents offered Cameron the chance to stay here until graduation, and to be honest, I don't think he's been happier than since he arrived. I've always known he felt more at home here than he did at his house. Maybe Mom and Dad should have tried it years ago; then..."

"What on earth are you doing!?" his sister was now at the bottom of the stairs, giving him a bizarre look, "Why do you keep on monologuing like that when no one's around!?"

"Well plot exposition has to go somewhere, Jeannie," Ferris explained matter-of-factually.

"What plot exposition!? It's not like we're..." Jeannie started to protest.

"Jeannie, breakfast's on the table," her mother came down the stairs, her tone practically shooing her daughter off. Rolling her eyes, Jeannie trudged for the kitchen. "All right, Ferris, stand right over there by the front door," grinning, his mother had a camera in hand, "Let's try and freeze this moment forever."

"With pleasure, Mom," Ferris walked to the door and struck a comical pose with his arms outstretched. Laughing, Mrs. Bueller took his picture. "Cameron, come stand with Ferris," she told him as he came back downstairs, fully dressed now, "For being Ferris's best friend all these years, you deserve it too."

Again cracking a small smile, Cameron walked over to the door, allowing Ferris to playfully put him in a headlock for the next photo. "Very cute, boys," Mrs. Bueller chuckled, "OK, breakfast's on the table."

"Blueberry pancakes?" Ferris asked knowingly.

"For my soon to be high school graduate, of course," she rubbed his shoulder. Ferris bustled into the kitchen, where his father had just finished brewing coffee. "Hey, good morning, high school grad," he greeted his son warmly, shaking his hand, "I'm so proud of you, Ferris-you too, Cameron," he greeted Ferris's friend, "How does it feel to have made it to the last day?"

"Amazing, Dad; never thought I'd make it," Ferris said quickly, "I'm just glad school's finally over and done with."

"I know you are..." Jeannie mumbled under her breath at the table.

"Now Jeannie, be nice," Mrs. Bueller gave her a firm look, "We've made it clear we're not going to tolerate any sibling rivalries in this house anymore..."

"Don't worry about it, Mom; I know she didn't mean anything by it," Ferris told her; although he didn't often show it openly, he had vowed to cover Jeannie's back after she'd bailed him out at the end of his day off a few months ago, which he figured was the least he could do for her given she'd managed to keep him from serving another year of high school.

"Oh, OK then," Mr. Bueller accepted this. "And good morning to you, my lovely," he gave his wife a kiss, "Think you'll finally get the Vermont deal done today?"

"I hope so, provided nothing else goes wrong," Mrs. Bueller shot Jeannie another stern look, "If not, it probably won't take too much longer. How about you?"

"Mr. Shirley wants me to look over some new marketing ideas he has in mind for cereals; I'll be going over the notes with Clark right after lunch. I'll have to make it quick, though, he'll be going on vacation to Hawaii at the end of the week. Hope he comes out all right with that; every time the poor guy goes out on vacation, something goes horribly wrong for him."

"I guess that's how it is with some people, Dad," Ferris shrugged, "But we all need a vacation sometimes. President Simmons, for example," he pointed at the kitchen TV, where the president could be seen boarding Air Force One, "I think he'll need his two weeks in the Middle East to get away from all the backbiting in Washington."

"Half of which he caused," Mr. Bueller rolled his eyes, "Don't ever enter politics, Ferris; they turn you into something you'll hate later. Oh, by the way, has your class decided where you're going on their senior trip yet?"

"Nope. There's been too much back and forth between everyone; no one can seem to agree. I hope they can soon; I really want to..."

A car horn blew out front. "And that's our ride; Cameron," Ferris nodded at his friend, who took a quick final bite of his pancakes and rose up, "Have a good day Mom, Dad."

"Have a great day, son," his father hugged him, "We're so proud of you, again."

"We're proud of you too, Cameron; you deserve this after everything you've been through," Mrs. Bueller hugged Cameron as well. "Thanks, Mrs. Bueller," Cameron cracked a wide smile this time. He followed Ferris out the door, where a familiar car was waiting for them at the curb. "You're a little early today," he told the driver.

"I asked her to be, Cameron; might as well savor the final moments before we enter Shermer High for the last time. And how is the loveliest cheerleader on the squad?" Ferris leaned in the driver's side window.

"So proud of the most popular kid in school finally earning the right to get out of it," smiling herself, Sloane Petersen leaned forward and gave him a kiss, "A little sad, though, that I'll have a year left without you or Cameron..." her expression fell.

"Though my physical body may leave Shermer High forever after today, my spirit shall walk the halls forever," Ferris proclaimed grandly, climbing into the front passenger seat while Cameron climbed in the back, "Tell all the other undergraduates to remember that always."

"I'll try," she pulled out into traffic, "Longest possible route without being late?"

"You know it," Ferris leaned back confidently in his seat, "You know, it has been quite a ride to get to here, and I'm quite glad to have shared it with you a good part of the way," he affectionately stroked his girlfriend's hair, "Now what I'd wish for is one last hurrah of some kind. One last big way to leave my mark in Shermer High before I leave for good."

"Even though you hate the place with every ounce of your being?" Cameron cracked from the back seat.

"Just because I don't like school doesn't mean I don't have hometown pride, or the wish to make a big difference, Cameron," Ferris reminded him, "And I just know that opportunity will present itself if we just wait for it."

"Mmm," was the best Cameron could come up with in return. He glanced at the window at the streets of Shermer rolling by. "Who do you think the guest speaker for the last day of school sendoff's going to be? Knowing Rooney, it'll probably be the Joliet warden saying he'll be glad to see all of us ten years after graduation."

"Nah, I think Mr. Rooney's been cowed a little bit after he couldn't catch me on our day off," Ferris predicted, "Still, it is interesting to guess who they did choose this year..."

* * *

"Therefore, it is my distinct honor to introduce to you a former aluminum...uh, alumni of this school, who, from bumble roots...HUMBLE roots, has risen up to a position of exalted status. Boys and girls, please give a big hand to your senior United States Senator from Illinois, Mr. Robert J. Tannen," school secretary Grace Vine stumbled through her introductory speech to the packed Shermer High gymnasium. The applause was scattered and half-hearted, including Ferris's atop the bleachers. "If he was the best they could come up with, they must have really been desperate this year," he asided to Sloane and Cameron next to him.

"Well I've heard he and Mr. Rooney go way back as friends," Sloane surmised. She turned her gaze to the podium in the middle of the gym as Senator Tannen stepped to the microphone. "Good afternoon, Shermer High, and go Bulldogs!" he declared loudly with a fist pump, getting a somewhat louder applause, "You know, in my twelve years in Washington, I've come to serve on a lot of key committees that help make life in this great nation of ours great. But I've never forgotten where I've come from, right here in Shermer, Illinois. It seems like just yesterday I was one of you, walking these halls," he did an over the top exhale, "It seems like a lifetime ago. I came from a poor family, so we had to struggle to keep me in school. But it was worth it, and from my degree, I've spun the career you see on the nightly news every day. So all you kids remember, stay in school, and you'll go far, just like me. In fact, since I'm here, I'm going to let you kids be the first to know a big announcement I've had in the works for a while now: I have decided to run for President of the United States!"

Again, the applause was half-hearted at best. "President of the United States!" Tannen declared again, confused at the tepid response. "I've decided that I can best serve my country by leading it. I think I am best qualified for the job out of all the candidates who have committed to the next election so far. With my record of cleaning up urban blight and putting Illinoisans back to work, I would do the same for the country and lead it back to full greatness..."

"YOU LIAR!" came a sudden strong shout from the bottom of the bleachers, snapping Ferris out of the funk the speech had been putting him in. He looked up to see a boy with glasses jump up and storm towards the podium despite several of his classmates' attempts to pull him back. "You ruined my family, Tannen!" he shouted furiously at the senator, ""You got my father's store shut down...!"

"Uh, I'm sorry, young man, I don't think we've met before..." Tannen squinted at him.

"Yes you have! I'm Jerry Greenfield, in case you don't remember, and you stood outside my dad's grocery in Glencoe and said it was a relic that had to be swept away! Don't you remember that!? Or were you too busy taking the money from the developers!?"

"All right, that's enough, young man!" came the angry shout that sent a chill down Ferris's spine even while safely atop the bleachers. The intimidating figure of Edward R. Rooney, Dean of Students, rose up from his chair next to the podium. "Either take a seat right now, buster, or it's detention!" he warned the boy, "Because I will not tolerate an attack on Senator Tannen when he's taken time out of his busy schedule to be here today!"

"He worked hand in hand with the developers to ruin us, Mr. Rooney; somebody's got to confront him on...!"

"All right, that's detention, mister!" Rooney grabbed the boy's arm roughly and dragged him out of the gym, pausing only to shout, "Shut up!" at the other students booing him. "Uh, well, anyway," Senator Tannen started again, wiping sweat from his forehead, "I honestly don't know what that was about, kids, as I don't know whoever that was, but as I was saying, you are this country's future, and with me as president, you'll have ample opportunity to..."

"Hmm," Ferris mused atop the bleachers, his brow furling, "Remember what I said about that opportunity earlier to make an impact, guys?" he turned to Sloane and Cameron, unconcerned with the rest of Tannen's speech, "I think that opportunity just presented itself to us now."

"But are we sure he's got actual beef with the senator?" Cameron seemed unconvinced.

"Cameron, why would he stand up and intercede if there wasn't?" Sloane was frowning, "Something did happen between them."

"Yeah; our good friend Mr. Tannen went visibly pale when he stood up and shouted him down," Ferris nodded, "And look, he's still sweating good," he pointed to the senator, "Something touched a nerve with him. So, with that in mind, what do you say we crash detention afterwards and see what the whole story is? If it is what I think it might be, we could be on the verge of making a bigger difference than I'd even hoped this morning."


	2. Mission: Justice

"Ed, thanks for the invite here," Senator Tannen stepped into Rooney's office as the bell rang to end the last regular school day of the year.

"Thanks for coming, Bob," Rooney shook his hand, "Sorry about that disturbance earlier; the kid's in detention, and he's going to stay there until I leave for the day."

"I never saw him before in my life, Ed," the senator said quickly.

"I'm not a reporter, Bob; if anything happened, I'm not holding you responsible," Rooney told him. He plopped back down behind his desk, "Anyway, congratulations on the presidential run; I hope you get it. This country needs someone like you who can instill discipline."

"You haven't changed at all, Ed," Tannen chuckled. "Discipline above all else for Edward R. Rooney. In fact," he leaned closer, "This is strictly confidential, but I've got an offer for you. I'll need someone who can help run my campaign after I officially declare in a week or so. You were the first person I had in mind, Ed. Seeing how tight a ship you run here, I just know you'd do great managing a campaign. And if we win, I'd make sure you have an advisor position in the West Wing locked down, maybe even chief of staff."

"Do tell," Rooney's eyes lit up, "Well Bob, I'll certainly give it some thought. I appreciate that you think that highly of me; seems no one else around here does," he muttered contemptuously.

"And if you say yes, Ed, I'll throw in a bonus," Tannen looked around, then leaned towards Rooney and said in a low voice, "I'm getting a huge money bomb from Jimmy Coakley of Coakley Coal down in Carbondale. He's discovered a huge new vein underneath a state park near town; I get a hundred grand up front, and another five hundred grand if I get rid of all the regulations that'll keep him from digging there now. I'm willing to let you in on a cut as an old friend."

"Well, I do appreciate it, Bob. But didn't you stand up in front of Lake Michigan the other month and say we need to keep our waterways clean and all that?" Rooney inquired with a raised eyebrow.

"It's all appearance, Ed; got to get those swing votes for the election. I could care less about those environmentalist freaks and their regulations. Business should always run unfettered, and if fossil fuels bring thousands of jobs, especially if they can profit me, then there's no such thing as climate change except as a foreign conspiracy against us," Tannen snorted. "Besides, I earned this money from Coakley; after growing up on the wrong side of the tracks here, I've earned every cent I take in today."

He checked his watch. "Well, might as well get going, Ed. I have a quick meeting to take care of, then I've got a seven o'clock flight back to D.C.; I've got some donors I want to try and woo. Here's my number," he wrote it down on a spare piece of paper and handed it to the principal, "Give my secretary a call any time if your answer's yes."

"I'll keep it in mind, Bob. Have a safe trip," Rooney waved goodbye. Once the senator had left, he let out an uncharacteristic yell of delight and pumped his fists excitedly. "Well, you're certainly excited, Ed," Grace entered his office now.

"I certainly am, Grace; now I've finally got a golden ticket out of this hellhole," Rooney said with a grin, "Because you're probably looking at the new chief advisor to the next president of the United States."

"Where? I don't see him in here, Ed," Grace looked around the office, confused. Rooney rolled his eyes in disgust. "Besides those damn kids, I'll also be glad to get away from you, you airheaded twit..." he muttered softly under his breath.

"What was that?" Grace turned back towards him.

"Nothing, nothing," Rooney waved her off, "Senator Tannen made me an offer I'd be insane to refuse. I'm leaving Shermer High behind, leaving all these wretched Ferris Bueller disciples to rot their lives away. No more them, and best of all," a devious look cross his face, "No more Ferris Bueller again, ever."

* * *

"Yep, he's in there, just him and Mr. Knapper," Sloane whispered, staring through the window of Room 203, where the school's literature teacher was seated at the front desk, grading papers.

"At least it's just Mr. Knapper; if it was Mr. Vernon, this would be a suicide mission," Cameron muttered.

"Well thankfully, nobody at Shermer High ever has to worry about Mr. Vernon bothering them again, and count me among those who're grateful for that," Ferris said with a nod; he had been quite happy when the overbearing former school district superintendent and detention master had been fired a few months ago by the school board for professional misconduct at a citywide academic competition. "OK, we'll try the simple approach this time," he told his friends, knocking on the door and letting himself in. "Oh, hello, Ferris," Mr. Knapper greeted him, mildly confused.

"Afternoon Mr. Knapper. Mr. Steinberg asked me to tell you, he's got a few new ideas about the graduation ceremony he'd like to run by you. He said to wait out by his car; he was going the bathroom, but he'll be out soon enough," Ferris spun his alibi.

"Oh. Well, OK, I'll go see what he has in mind," Mr. Knapper took the bait and walked out the door. Ferris softly closed the door behind him. "And since Mr. Steinberg's probably sound asleep in his office after trying to go over next year's history lectures, he'll probably wait a good long while out there, enough time for us to finish up in here," he said out loud with a nod. He walked towards the boy who'd confronted Senator Tannen. "Hi," he greeted him, "I think it's Jerry, isn't it?"

"Yeah, Jerry Greenfield. You're Ferris Bueller, aren't you? Everyone in the school seems to know you," the boy asked.

"I'm the one and only," Ferris struck a heroic pose. "I saw what happened earlier," he sat down at the desk next to Jerry's, "I know you're new here to Shermer High, so I had to wonder, how exactly have you and Bob Tannen met?"

"It's a long story, and there's probably nothing you could do about it..." Jerry shook his head sadly.

"If anyone can do anything, it's Ferris," Sloane told him, putting her arm around Ferris and giving him an appreciative smile. "Now what went wrong between you and the senator?"

"OK, but it's a really sad story," Jerry took a deep, glum breath. "I grew up in Glencoe, in a nice, tree-lined neighborhood, the kind you see in the movies as the perfect America," he began, "My dad ran a grocery store around the corner; it wasn't too much, but it made for a nice living, even through changing shopping trends. Everything was great. Up till about a year and a half ago."

His head slumped down on the desk. "I clerked for Dad over the summers. I was stocking shelves the one day when this well-dressed guy came in, saying he was from Prince Construction. He offered Dad a buyout on the store and our house, saying the city was thinking of redeveloping. Dad refused, even after he was told everyone else had signed and even after the price got to a million dollars; he built that store himself, and he wanted to retire while still owning it. The guy left, but swore we'd made a mistake. Three weeks later, Senator Tannen held a big re-election rally in front of the store. We listened in as he called the whole neighborhood blighted and a relic of the past, and that it could all be made better through redevelopment. After the speech, he came into the store for a gallon of ice cream, and at the checkout, he told Dad he'd heard he refused. Told him that he was holding progress in the area back since he was the only one that hadn't taken a buyout offer. He offered five million himself on top of Prince's offer, plus a job on his re-election team. Dad ordered him out, saying he would not be bought, and he was going to stay in the neighborhood. I mean, yeah, there was some decline over the years, and it was starting to get a little blighted, but it was still a good place to live. And I liked it there. And then...and then..."

He choked up. "I came to the store from school and found the front door open and shattered. Dad was on the floor, beaten badly. I thought it was a robbery at first, but the cash register was closed, and nothing was missing. The store was trashed, though, badly. And Dad..." he broke into open tears, "He's still a partial cripple today; he couldn't run the store anymore. We had no choice but to sell, and had to sell our house too. Ten seconds after we pulled away from the house for the last time, the bulldozers charged up the street and started knocking everything down. I couldn't bear to watch; it was just too painful. I drove by a few weeks ago; it's all office space, including an auxiliary headquarters for Prince Construction. How is that progress in creating jobs!?" he roared out loud in frustration. He wiped his eyes and looked up at Ferris miserably. "We're stuck in a dumpy apartment on the wrong side of the tracks here in Shermer now. Dad can't work at all; Mom's pulling two jobs to try and put enough money on the table to pay the bills, and it's a miracle I was able to stay in school till now. No way I'm going to college, though; I've got to get a real job to support them and my sisters. And I wanted so much to go; I wanted to be a doctor, but that's off the table with no chance for a degree...why did all this have to happen!?"

He slumped down on the desk and broke down again. "That's just horrible," a stunned Sloane put her hand on his shoulder, "And you think Senator Tannen conspired with the construction company to force you and your family and everyone else in the neighborhood out?"

"I can't prove it, but I just know he did," hatred rose in Jerry's voice, "Why else would he have come to Glencoe and preached progress if he wasn't going to profit from any redevelopment somehow!? But again, what good can anyone do!?" the hate was replaced by depression, "He's one of the most popular senators in Congress right now, and half the people in office here in the Chicago suburbs rode his coattails to get in, so no one's going to talk..."

"Then in that case, allow me to offer my services in the whole situation," Ferris said, extending a hand to Jerry, "Just give the word, and I promise to expose anything wrong that did happen in the whole matter, and bring the senator down from his mighty throne."

"But what can you do?" Jerry frowned at him, "You don't possibly know how to..."

"Hey, he's Ferris Bueller; if he wants do something, it'll get done, believe me," Cameron said. He leaned close to Ferris and whispered in his ear, "But how are we supposed to expose a senator, Ferris? Isn't this a little out of our league, even for us?"

"Don't worry, Cameron, I have a plan formulating right now...and wouldn't you just know it, our ticket to phase one is at hand," Ferris noticed the familiar figure of senior class president Corey Jacobson and his father, Mr. Tom Jacobson, the senior class advisor, walking by the room outside. "Tell you what, go take off," he told Jerry, "Wait for us at the corner of Deutsch and Columbus; we'll pick you up there. I'm going to go set the snowball rolling."

He bustled out the door before anyone could lodge a complaint. "Hey Corey," he called to the class president down the hall. Corey turned around. "Oh, Ferris, hi," he greeted him, which also brought his father to a stop, "Surprised you'd still be here this late after class."

"Just taking care of a few things. Say, the class officers still haven't figured out where to go for the senior trip yet, have they?" Ferris inquired.

"No, and I can't believe it," Corey shook his head in frustration, "I can't believe six kids have to be so divided on something so simple. Why, have you got something?"

"I think I do," a grin crossed Ferris's face, "If you and your father here would be interested, I've got a great idea for us..."

* * *

"Ferris Bueller suggested Washington, D.C.?" Rooney frowned suspiciously in his office.

"And since Corey and I both decided it was better than what everyone else had proposed, we agreed," Mr. Jacobson told him, "He's sending out the e-mails to the rest of the class right now. I'll call the airlines and hotels..."

"You're calling no one, Tom, because I'm vetoing this decision," Rooney shook his head firmly, "If Ferris suggested it, the senior class is not going to Washington."

"And why not!?"

"Because Ferris obviously has an ulterior motive behind it, and I have a pretty good idea what it might be," Rooney mused darkly.

"Oh come off it, Ed. You're obsessed with Ferris Bueller. Sure, he missed a lot of days this year, but he's a good kid at heart," Mr. Jacobson protested.

"He was skipping school, Tom, making a mockery of you, me, and the entire faculty," Rooney growled, "He made a fool out me too, when I tried to..."

"YOU made a fool of yourself, Ed, wasting that whole day chasing after him," it was Mr. Jacobson's turn to glare the principal down, "And where's your hard proof he was skipping? Because everything I saw said he was sick that day."

"Because you were dumb enough to believe everything everyone else said, Tom! I had him face to face, dead to rights outside his house, healthy as a horse...!"

"And he said he was home in bed all day the next day in my class. So it's your word against his, Ed, and in America, it's innocent until proven guilty. I've made the decision, and we're going to Washington," Mr. Jacobson folded his arms defiantly across his chest. Rooney shot him a disgusted look. "All right Tom, have it your way. They can go to Washington. BUT, there are conditions, first and foremost that I am coming along too, to make sure this trip goes off with a hitch," he said sternly, "And furthermore, this trip will be a learning experience for them all; as far as they'll be concerned, they'll still be in the classroom. They will be made to learn, and they will not party at all. They will be held to strict curfews, and will not be allowed to wander off or do anything to deviate from the master plan I'm going to draw up for the trip."

"How are they supposed to have any fun then, Ed!?"

"Fun, Tom, just went right out the window. Nobody is going to have any fun on this trip. They should consider that my parting gift to them for treating me with such overt contempt for the last few years."

"If that's how you feel, Ed, I'll have to ask you not to come."

"Oh I'm coming, Tom, or they don't go on any trip at all. That's the deal; take it or leave it," Rooney glared at him. Mr. Jacobson looked down at the ground. "Agreed," he said bitterly.

"And you will uphold your end of the bargain here, Tom, because I will not tolerate anyone being lenient on Ferris or anyone on this trip. I expect utter discipline, and I will get, or else," Rooney warned him, "Have I made myself clear?"

"Yeah, you've made yourself clear. Now let me make myself clear," Mr. Jacobson leaned furiously in the principal's face, "I don't like you at all, Ed. I never have, and it's easy to see why no one else in this school does either. And so you know, I've got the entire school board on speed dial, and with Vernon gone now, absolutely nobody's going to cover your back. So if I see you harassing Ferris Bueller or any other Shermer High kid on this trip, I press that speed dial button, and you follow Richard right out the door here. Am I loud and clear with that?"

"Is that a threat!?" Rooney rose up, furious.

"Yeah, I guess it is. Because I'm not afraid of you, Ed. And unlike you, I think these kids should enjoy their last days as Shermer High alumni. So don't force me to take any drastic action," Mr. Jacobson warned him with an accusing finger in Rooney's face. He turned and left the office. Rooney slouched down in his chair. "Always thought we shouldn't have hired him..." he muttered under his breath.

"Well, you two were really getting into it in here," Grace stuck her head in the office door.

"And for the record, Grace, I asked you never to eavesdrop on private conversations," Rooney frowned at her. "But if you must listen in, the key point is beating Ferris Bueller at whatever his game is," he leaned forward with a determined look, "I know he's weaving a web of conspiracy as we speak; I just have to find out what he's up to, and what he plans to do."

"Well it won't include Sloane Petersen's grandmother; she's dead, of course," Grace pointed out. Rooney rolled his eyes again and growled in frustration. "Even after all that, you still believed that whole dead grandmother rubbish...!" he muttered furiously.

"Oh dear, did I do something wrong?" concern crossed Grace's face.

"Never mind," Rooney waved her off in disgust. "What I have to do now is keep as tight a leash on Ferris on this trip as I can," he said darkly, a sadistic look growing in his eyes, "Technically he may have graduated, but if I catch him out of line on this trip for anything, I can still deny him his diploma and hold him back, preferably indefinitely. The war's not over yet, Ferris," he grinned menacingly, "I'm still going to dent your future worse than you can imagine. Because you are not ruining my meal ticket out of this place..."


	3. The Plan Comes Together

"OK team, gather round, I've got it all down pat," Ferris waved Sloane, Cameron, and Jerry around his desk, "Now, obviously to make any headway with this, we have to prove beyond any doubt that Senator Tannen," he pointed at a crude stick figure with Tannen's name under it, "Is in fact connected with Prince Construction," he drew a line to the firm's name elsewhere on the paper, "and whoever the thugs were that attacked Jerry's father. Now, the obvious first step is to make sure we visit the Capitol on the trip; once we know exactly where Tannen's office is in the building, and his contact information therein, then we can have some fun and get started on trying to prove everything."

"What, are you suggesting we sneak into his office and rummage through his desks?" Jerry looked skeptical.

"And probably hack his computer and tap his phone too while we're at it," Cameron muttered with a resigned sigh, "I know you say you can never go too far, Ferris, but this is really pushing the envelope," he advised his friend worriedly, "Skipping school and making phony phone calls to Ed Rooney is one thing; breaking into the personal files of a United States senator is another. I'm not sure I want to be part of this..."

"But it's for a good cause, Cameron," Sloane, in contrast, was fully on board.

"Is it worth forty years in prison or more if we get caught!?" Cameron countered.

"Look, I'm sorry, Cameron, but if it's as bad as Jerry says it is, we probably have no choice," Ferris shook his head, "Sure, crooks in the real world are dumber than they are in the movies, but if Senator Tannen is aiding and abetting a corrupt developer or worse, he's going to keep the evidence hidden tight. We'll have to take a few chances."

"That's all you ever do," Cameron rolled his eyes.

"And it's paid off so far. Remember what I always say, Cam, about life?"

"It moves by too fast, and if you don't stop and look around once and a while, you'll miss it."

"Exactly. But there's an additional caveat I live by: if you don't use that break from life for the better, it's hardly worth taking. I know that may seem hard to believe with some of the things we've done over the years, but I have to make life count for something. That's why I took that day off: to give you the best day of your life that your folks were too busy being spiteful materialistic idiots with each other to give you. And that's what I'm doing now: trying to right the wrong that's been done to Jerry's family and everyone else that may have been strong-armed out of that neighborhood. For justice, the ends almost always justify the means."

"Well, I'm sort of with Cameron, Ferris; you're proposing some pretty risky stuff," Jerry still wasn't on board either, "If we go to jail, who's going to help support my family?"

"We're not going to jail, trust me on that, I promise," Ferris assured him. "Now," he turned back to the "battle plan," "Once we have Tannen's phone number and e-mail address, we can probably go back to when the buyouts started and see who he was communicating with; you said it was a year and a half ago you got the first offer to sell?" he turned to Jerry, who nodded, "All right, we'll probably go back two years, then. When we go through his office, we'll probably try and get his schedule for the week we're in town; that way, we can follow him around if we need to dig up dirt-and, in the unlikely event we fail to expose whatever's going on, we can set something up to humiliate him openly at some point along the line...you all getting this, folks?" he looked up and asked out loud, as if to an imaginary audience.

"Huh?" Jerry frowned, confused.

"Never mind, you wouldn't get it," Ferris shook his head, "Anyway, it seems likely we'll have to shake Rooney at some point, so we'll..."

"And what exactly are we cooking up in here?" Jeannie unwelcomely thrust her head in his bedroom door, "Are we planning to break the Unabomber out of maximum security now or something along those lines!?"

"Oh no, Jeannie, nothing of the sort. We are engaged in a noble cause for truth, justice, and the American way," Ferris declared grandly and innocently.

"Cameron..." Jeannie glared at her brother's friend for a full explanation.

"Actually, it is like he says; he wants to help Jerry here get back at Senator Bob Tannen for possibly driving his family out of their home and business," Cameron told her, pointing at the other boy, "I have my doubts, but if it's for a good cause, what the hell, might as well go out with a bang."

"And we'd appreciated secrecy, if you wouldn't mind," Sloane pressed Jeannie with a glare. Jeannie rolled her eyes and marched right up to Ferris. "I get a new car, a new computer, you attend every single one of my field hockey games next year in the front row no matter where you go to college, and you get Mom and Dad to forgive me openly for everything that happened to me the day you skipped school," she told him sternly, "I get those, you've got a deal."

"Deal," Ferris shook her hand, "I owe you for bailing me out anyway."

"You owe me a lot more than that," she scowled, "But it's a start. So what exactly is your scheme this time, then, so I know?"

"Actually, now that you do know, Jeannie, I could use you for this," Ferris's expression brightened, "While we're all searching for evidence in Washington, someone should really be looking for additional evidence here, concerning Prince Construction and anyone else who might be scheming with Senator Tannen..."

"So that's your plan, setting me up to possibly take a fall for your snooping!?" her glare grew harder.

"You're not going to jail; no one who gets Ed Rooney off my back should go to jail. Besides, as long as he says yes, you'll be working with an old mutual friend of ours, someone who knows a little bit, I'm sorry to say, about crime in the Chicago metro area," Ferris spun towards his computer and typed in a few instructions that brought up Instant Messenger. He typed a few more keys, and the screen popped up showing a live feed into another bedroom, in which the familiar figure of Garth Volbeck was slouched in a chair, staring out the window. "Garth, afternoon, buddy," he called out loud. Garth turned quickly towards the screen. "Oh, afternoon, Ferris-afternoon there, beautiful," he smiled at the sight of Jeannie, making her smile back as well, "What's cooking today?"

"Garth old buddy, I need your help on an important mission of perhaps literal vital national importance," Ferris told him, "I know you've vowed to get off the drugs, and I commend you for the decision with all my heart and soul, but I'd like you to ask around to your old contacts in the trade about anything they know concerning Prince Construction and Senator Bob Tannen. Whatever you find out, I'd like you and Jeannie to follow up on it while we're on our senior trip in Washington," he gestured towards his sister, "Remember, once you have a lead, absolutely anything goes when it comes to digging deeper."

"Got it, anything goes," Garth nodded in agreement, "When and where do you want me to start looking?"

"Probably on Friday, the day after we land in the capital," Ferris said, "And above all, whatever you do, don't put Jeannie in any actual danger; the secrecy of this plan depends on nothing happening to her."

"You bet it does," Jeannie told him with another scowl. "Guess I'll see you Friday, then," her smile returned when she gazed at Garth.

"See you then, sweet angel," he returned the smile before signing off. There came another knock on the door. "Ferris, we're going out for ice cream to celebrate your graduation...you're not bothering your brother, are you, Jeannie!?" Mrs. Bueller gave her daughter a frown.

"No, no, not at all, Mom. In fact, I was just going over our itinerary of the trip next week," Ferris told her.

"Oh, well, that's OK," Mrs. Bueller accepted this, "We're ready to go whenever you are."

"Give me about five minutes to finish up, Mom, and I'll be ready," Ferris said. "OK," he turned back to the computer once his mother had left, "There's still a couple of things to take care of (Jeannie rose up and walked out at this point, shaking her head). Namely, of course, making sure Sloane can go on this trip as a junior, given how vitally important she is to this mission."

"And I appreciated being indispensable," Sloane leaned affectionately into him, "But that means someone else has to get bumped..."

"I know, and much as I hate to do it, let's see what we can come up with here..." Ferris typed a few more keys to bring up a listing of Shermer High's senior class, "Let's see, let's see..." he scrolled through the list, "Ah, Steff," he pointed at one name in particular, "Don't think I haven't been watching what you've been up to all through this year. I happen to think Andie Walsh and Blaine McDonough make a great couple; don't think I haven't seen you trying to break them up. I think this calls for the hammer to be lowered, then. So, sorry Steff, but you're not going on this trip..." he typed a few more keys, deleting Steff's name from the class list, "...and Sloane is," he typed a few more that caused Sloane's name to pop up in Steff's place.

"He's not going to be happy when he finds out, Ferris," Cameron shook his head.

"For a complete jerk like him, that's his problem," Ferris rationalized.

"I didn't like him when I had class with him this semester, so I guess it's all right," Jerry shrugged. "Well," he rose up, "I'm going the bathroom and heading downstairs, but Ferris," he turned towards him, "I just want to say, thanks for wanting to help. I hope this works."

"Somehow or other, it'll work Jerry, trust me," Ferris flashed him a huge smile and a thumbs-up. "All right," he returned his gaze to the computer again once Jerry had left, "Since word from the grapevine is Mr. Rooney's planning on going along on this trip to try and stop me, we're going to have to play a little hardball..."

"We're dead, just dig our graves now," Cameron groaned. Ferris paid no attention. "I'm pretty sure I can get the flight schedule for the airline on the day we'll be leaving," he typed in some more instructions, "And then, as an opening salvo..."

* * *

"What the hell do you mean I've been bumped!?"" an irate Rooney bellowed at the ticket agent behind the Cross American Airlines desk at O'Hare Airport on Thursday morning.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Rooney, but a Mr. Sashimoto and his party made a last minute high bid for your seats," the ticket agent shook her head, "So yours were the ones we had to reassign."

"There's no Mr. Sashimoto, you bonehead; that's Ferris Bueller playing a trick on you!" Rooney ranted.

"Ed, come on, there's no proof of that..." Mr. Jacobson leaned over his shoulder with a scowl.

"Mind your own business, Tom!" Rooney told him off. "I want a check run on that seat bid!" he ordered the ticket agent, "I'll bet anything it'll come up as Ferris Bueller's doing!"

"Oh, Ferris Bueller. Is he feeling any better these days?" the ticket asked sincerely.

"Ah, Jesus damn Christ...!" Rooney roared, spinning in a wild circle and make everyone in line behind him bustle over to the next line over.

"Ed, please, watch the language!" Grace pleaded with him, "There are children listening in!" she pointed at several watching in from a bench nearby.

"All right, all right, I'm calm!" Rooney took deep breaths. He turned back towards the ticket agent. "Let me make this clear," he growled murderously, "I booked that f-ing seat myself for over two hundred f-ing dollars earlier this week. So, you and your piece of s machinery there," he pointed contemptuously at the booking computer on the counter, "Better give me back my original gd seat, or I will trash the s out of this whole f-ing terminal, you gd sob. See, I didn't curse, Grace," he turned smugly back towards his secretary, "Happy now?"

"Well, it's better than what my cousin the rental car agent had to put up with from the one man during Thanksgiving last year..." Grace began.

"Never mind," Rooney rolled his eyes in disgust, "Why the hell you'd even bother coming along...!?" he muttered under his breath.

"Because no one else wanted to be a chaperone with you coming along, Ed," Grace had heard him, prompting another disgusted eye roll from her boss. "So," he turned back to the ticket agent, "Are you going to fix this or not!?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Rooney, but there's nothing I can do," the ticket agent shook her head, "However, we will book you and the other teachers on the first available plane..."

"Hey, Mr. Rooney, have a great trip," Ferris in fact called merrily from across the terminal, where he and his classmates were going through the magnetometers with no problem at all, "I know we're going to. See you in Washington."

Roaring, Rooney lunged towards the magnetometers and had to be restrained by the other teachers. "Ed, Ed, let it go!" Mr. Jacobson warned him, "This is just a standard airport glitch. I'm sure whatever plane we get's going to be just as well."

* * *

"Get out of here, get out of here!" a frustrated Rooney yelled, swatting at the chickens fluttering past his head. Their clucks of discontent blended in with the baas and oinks of the sheep and pigs and other livestock sharing the plane with the teachers. "Can't believe THIS was the only plane they had left for us!" the principal muttered in disgust, removing his tuxedo and throwing it over his head to avoid another dive bombing by more chickens.

"Must have been a busy day," Mr. Knapper rationalized from across the cabin, scooting out of the way of a goat scuttling by, "Look at it this way, Ed; we'll be in Washington in no time."

"You're right, you're right. It's all uphill from here," Rooney said calmly. With a loud moo, however, a large cow nearby lurched sideways, pinning Rooney hard against the cabin wall. "Ah, damn it! Get off of me, you overgrown hamburger!" Rooney roared at it. Mooing again, the cow instead started rubbing its side up and down against the wall, jerking Rooney along with it...and then, to add insult to injury, relieved itself on Rooney's very expensive formal shoes. "Get me out of here, right...!" Rooney closed his eyes against a flashbulb burst. "What the hell do you think you're doing!" he upbraided his secretary, who had a camera in hand.

"Just savoring the moment, Ed," laughing, Grace took his picture again, "You're going to enjoy this when you look back at it years from now."

"DELETE THAT DAMN PHOTO, GRACE!" Rooney ordered her. "FERRRRRISSSSSS!" he yelled at his adversary, his shout echoing uselessly all over the cabin...


	4. Hello, Washington

"Looks like we're over western Pennsylvania at the moment," Ferris stated, looking out the airplane's window at what looked like Pittsburgh below, "Should be less than an hour now." He turned to Sloane in the seat next to him. "Of course, in between our special mission in D.C., we're going to make sure to have a whole week of fun too, right?" he told her with a nod.

"Oh yes we will," she agreed with a grin, "And I've got a few good ideas of what we should hit."

"So do I. Once we can break away from the group, we'll start this afternoon with the simple stuff. Of course, we'll have to work a bit to throw Mr. Rooney and the other teachers off, but if we've done it before, we can do it again. Of course, no reason we can't leave everyone else out of it too," Ferris glanced around the plane cabin at his fellow seniors. Some listening to popular music, others were reading, and many who were couples were snuggling together in their seats. Everyone seemed happy, and he was glad they were-everyone, that was, except for one notable depressed face right next to him...

"Why the long face, Cam?" he asked his friend, who was slouched down miserably in his seat, his gaze locked in on one happy set of classmates a few rows up kissing each other warmly, "This is going to be a great week for us."

"Maybe. I don't know," Cameron mumbled wistfully, "It's just...maybe I was just born not to enjoy anything no matter how good it is. I mean, I'm sure it's going to be a great trip and all, just like the day off was, but...I am who I am, unfortunately."

"Cameron, what's there to be sad about?" Sloane goaded him, "We're going to see all the big national monuments and do a good deed for someone else."

"And besides, you're an indispensable member of the team, Cameron," Ferris added, "We couldn't do this mission without you."

"Thanks. Maybe I'll feel better later," Cameron forced a small smile, then hefted the psychiatry magazine he'd bought at O'Hare and buried his face in it. Ferris shook his head softly. "He should be fine if we stay with him," he told Sloane, "I've got to take care of business; think of something to cheer him up while I'm gone."

He patted her on the shoulder, then rose up and bustled back to the plane's bathroom, where he quickly took care of business. "I think I know what's bothering Cameron," he said out loud into the mirror when he'd finished, "It's an accumulation of several things, actually, I think. One's the burnout of knowing school's over and wondering where he goes from here, same as many of the rest of you, I'm sure. Plus, I'm sorry to say, it's probably a feeling of being overshadowed in our golden trio no matter how much Sloane and I treat him as an equal. We'll have to work overtime and make sure he contributes heavily on this mission. His parents almost certainly have some blame too; all those years of forcing him to be the middleman in their fights had to have taken a major toll on his psyche. Hopefully when their incarcerations end, they'll be wise enough to try and make it up to him somehow. And on top of it all, he feels like he's an outcast without a date. Now usually it doesn't bother him too much, at least not on the surface, but being surrounded by lots of happy couples on this plane has to make him feel bad. But don't any of you worry about that, because I'll keep my eyes open for anyone who might make a good fit for him during the rest of this story. Yeah, the matchmaker role might seem a little obvious for someone like me, but if..."

"Hey, are you done in there!? I've gotta go bad!" someone outside the bathroom complained.

"Oh, yeah, I'm done; just monologuing for the readers," Ferris called to him.

"What for the who!?"

"Never mind. Bathroom's yours," Ferris opened the door and let the man in. "Of course, since this is the big blowout trip," he continued his monologuing up the aisle, "We've got to have the best lodging in Washington we can get. So hopefully Mr. Rooney had enough of a heart to get us something decent, at least at first."

* * *

"I guess not," he said an hour and a half later, staring grimly up at the cheap, monotone motel in the Alexandria suburbs that had been procured for the senior class.

"I think I can actually see the cockroaches and termites working on the exterior walls from here," Cameron muttered disgustedly, "Figures Mr. Rooney would dump us in this."

"Well we're not staying here, Cameron, that's for sure," Ferris hefted his suitcases nonetheless, "We'll go get set up for now, and see what we can do afterwards..."

"Such as what, Ferris?" came Rooney's dark voice behind them. The principal stood directly behind them with his hands on his hips. "I think this motel will suffice for you and everyone else," he leaned murderously right in Ferris's face, "And so you know, Ferris, I will be watching you VERY carefully on this entire trip. I know full well you cooked this trip to do something against Senator Tannen. That boy who confronted him was lying, he admitted it to my face, and the senator is a good man. You go anywhere near him, or try and deviate from the itinerary we've drawn up for this trip, and you will not graduate. Not this year, not next year, not any year. Am I clear?"

"Oh, no need to worry, Mr. Rooney, what could I possibly do to mess this trip up?" Ferris asked innocently, flashing a deep grin. Rooney's glare got darker. "No more free passes, Ferris," he threatened his student, "Just one step out of line, and I nail you to the wall permanently."

"Well, thanks for your advice, Mr. Rooney; we'll keep it in mind," Ferris told him with a smile, "Let's check in then, guys," he told Cameron and Sloane, leading them up the stairs to the motel's second floor. "I don't see how Petersen got on this trip as a junior..." Rooney muttered under his breath. He quickly dug out his cell phone and dialed it. "Yes, get me Senator Bob Tannen's office," he demanded into it, "Yes, hello, are you Senator Tannen's secretary? Good. I'm Edward R. Rooney, Dean of Students at Shermer High School in Shermer, Illinois; the senior class is having its senior trip in Washington, and we'll be visiting the Capitol first this afternoon. There's a certain student in this class that may try to get into Senator Tannen's office. His name is Ferris Bueller...yes, he's feeling better!" he shouted angrily, "He was never sick to begin with, you stupid...OK, sorry, I was out of line there, yes. Anyway, I'd like you to contact the Capitol Police and..."

Upstairs, Ferris opened the door to what was to be his and Cameron's assigned room. "Yep, we've definitely got to upgrade from this," he said, noting the wholly bland room before him, "First, though, let's set things up in here."

He closed and locked the door behind Sloane and Cameron and slid the blinds shut, then opened his largest suitcase and pulled a familiar mannequin out of it. "My best guess is it'll take about fifteen minutes to set all this up," he declared, laying the mannequin on the bed and lacing string around it, "Fortunately, only Mr. Rooney would dare to enter when it says Do Not Disturb outside, so as long as we..."

"Uh, big problem, Ferris," Cameron raised his hand, "The dummy worked well for one day before; now you're asking to pull it off a whole week. Even you're not that lucky."

"Just for a while, Cameron, until we figure out where we can go," Ferris dug out his stereo player and handed it plus a cassette labeled ASLEEP LONG TIME to his friend, "In the meantime, since Mr. Rooney means to watch us like a hawk, we need to neutralize him so we can get to Tannen's office. And fortunately, I've come prepared for that," he next dug out a bottle of Milk of Magnesia and a bottle of prune juice. "Here," he handed these to Sloane, "Since he's suspicious of you already, you'll have to get someone out of the loop to work with us. If I know Mr. Rooney's habits, he'll have a cup of coffee once we're all unpacked. Get someone to distract him and lure him off to do something so he'll have to put the coffee down. Then, aim right for the center of the cup."

"No problem," Sloane gave him a warm thumbs up, "One incapacitated Ed Rooney, coming right up."

* * *

"Ben, take over, I've got to go bad again," a green-looking Rooney told Mr. Steinberg on the steps of the Capitol, his hands clutching his rear end anxiously, "Why am I so diaherrhetic now...!?"

He rushed desperately through the door and made a beeline for the restrooms. Ferris grinned at the back of the line. The principal was now out of the way for now. "OK, we've just got to get through the next few minutes, then we can break off," he whispered to Sloane and Cameron, "Got to make it look good, though. In the meantime, close your eyes and think warm thoughts, because we're about to enter another Great Depression."

He pointed to the front of the crowd, where Mr. Steinberg was waving the students together at the front of the visitor's center. "Class, may I have your attention please?" he asked in the loudest voice he could, which was barely above speaking level, "You are now standing in the United States Capitol building. The Capitol was built by...anyone know, anyone?...William Thornton, whose last minute design wowed George Washington and Thomas Jefferson in the year...anyone? Anyone?...1793. In addition to Congress, the Capitol building was once the home of...anyone? Anyone? Anyone?...the United States Supreme Court, which met here until the year 1935. The United States Congress, consisting of two separate components due to a compromise by the Founding Fathers at the...anyone? Anyone?...Constitutional Convention, is thus known as a...Anyone know at all, anyone?...a bicameral legislative system. We'll discuss more of this later on the tour of the building. Now behind us," he stepped aside, "you can see this giant statue of a great Hawaiian monarch. Anyone know his name, anyone? Anyone? Anyone? King Kamehameha I. Anyone know what his claim to fame is, anyone? He united the Hawaiian islands and outlawed cannibalism among its tribes. This was one of two statues given to the Capitol by Hawaii for...anyone know, anyone at all, anyone? Anyone? Anyone? Statuary Hall. Now are their any questions before we officially begin the tour, anyone? Anyone? Anyone at all with any questions?"

His response was a cacophony of snores from the other students. His lecture had literally put them to sleep on their feet. Ferris knew the time was right to act. "OOOOOOWWWWW!" he howled, doubling over, "Oh, no, my appendix! I think it's about to burst, OOOOOHHHHH!"

"Bueller? Bueller? Is something the matter?" Mr. Steinberg asked, not changing his monotone delivery at all.

"He's not well," Sloane gasped with fake horror, grabbing hold of Ferris, "We'll get a cab and take him back to the hotel. Cameron, give me a hand!"

Cameron took Ferris's other arm and helped her drag Ferris out the side door, leaving a dumbfounded Mr. Steinberg to stare after them. "He knew it was a fake, I'm sure he knew," Cameron muttered nervously.

"I can outsmart him, Cameron, don't you worry. Tannen, Tannen," Ferris looked up high enough to scan for the senator's name on the board by the elevators, "There, third floor, Room 305. Let's go."

He pressed the button for the elevator. Five minutes later, they arrived on the third floor...but a pair of Capitol policemen were standing outside Senator Tannen's office. "Sorry, this office is closed," one said firmly when the high schoolers approached.

"I carry an important message from Abe Frohmann, the Sausage King of Chicago," Ferris told him, "He's willing to make a special campaign contribution to Senator Tannen..."

"The Senator's not available, and we've got instructions not to let anyone in this office," the other policeman shook his head firmly, "So better head on back to your tour, kids."

"But this is a vital message for the senator...!"

"Now, or we'll have to take you in for trespassing," the first cop folded his arms across his chest. Shrugging, Ferris turned around. "Rooney," he muttered to his friends as they bustled back down the hall, "He must have suspected we were coming and tipped them off."

"Well, that's it, plan's ruined. Might as well give up and just enjoy the rest of the trip as best we can and hope he lets us graduate," Cameron lamented.

"It's not over yet, Cameron; we have not yet begun to fight," Ferris declared with determination, "We'll just have to recalibrate and find another way to get the senator's critical information. Until then, we're here in the capital, and it's a lovely day, so, instead of going back to the regular tour and let Mr. Steinberg's lectures suck our souls out, let's put on our Sunday clothes and enjoy the town on our own. I should have another plan to move forward by the end of the day."


	5. Ferris on the Town

"Burst appendix!?" Rooney furiously glared Mr. Steinberg down in the Senate hallway.

"It seemed legitimate enough; they were out the door before I could said anything anyway," Mr. Steinberg explained, still not changing his monotonous drawl, "If he was in fact telling the truth, he's at the nearest hospital or back at the motel."

"You blind stupid idiot!" Rooney roared, throwing his hands over his head, "Am I the only one in the entire city of Chicago with a damn brain!? That was the most blatantly obvious trick he's pulled this semester, and you fell for it without a second thought!"

"If I might ask, Ed, what does it really matter?" Mr. Steinberg inquired, "If it was a legitimate illness, better he goes to the hospital; if he was faking it, he's already graduated for all technical purposes, so really, you can't punish him. And besides, what is it to you?"

"It's war, Ben, that's what it is, and he's not graduating if I find him healthy out there in this city. Stand clear," Rooney pushed him aside, "I'm bringing him back here right now and seeing just how busted that appendix of his really is...!" he started down the hall, only to stop and scrunch up with a discomforted expression. "After I clear the rest of this out...!" he continued, rushing back towards the men's room again for another relief session. Mr. Steinberg shook his head after him. "He could really use some psychotherapy," he remarked to himself, "Well, time to lecture the class on how a bill moves through committee..."

* * *

"The Washington Monument," Ferris remarked, staring up the length of the giant obelisk, "Took forty years to built, and was the tallest structure in the world when it finally was completed. Never thought you'd be standing front of it, did you, Cameron?" he asked his friend.

"Nope," Cameron admitted, squinting at the top of the monument, "Four months ago, I would have said we'd be crazy to be out and about like this, but actually, I've kind of been looking forward to another day on the town, Ferris," he told him, cracking a very small smile, "Still," he glanced worriedly back towards the Capitol, "could we speed it up a little bit? Rooney won't be in the bathroom all day."

"First we've got to get a picture, so we can savor it; miss," Sloane hailed down a woman passing by, "Could you take our picture?"

"Sure," the woman took her cell phone and framed the three teens. "Wait, let's get the right pose," Ferris walked over to Sloane and maneuvered her hands over her mouth. He then placed Cameron's hands over his ears, and covered his own eyes. "OK, now you can take it."

Laughing, the woman clicked the photo. "Thank you," Sloane thanked her, taking the cell phone back, "Shall we press on then?"

"Might as well," Ferris agreed. A few minutes later, they found themselves standing in the center of the National World War II Memorial. "For all the time it took to build it, it was worth it," Ferris commented, scanning the pillars and fountain, "And certainly," he looked skyward, "We thank all you brave men and women who served to fight and make sure kids like us can have days off."

"My grandfather served," Cameron remarked, approaching the Illinois pillar, "Came ashore on Omaha Beach and cut his way through France. He was wounded at Falaise and carried the shrapnel in him till the day he died. Wish I could be as brave as he was..."

"I think you are, Cameron," Sloane patted him on the shoulder, "You certainly had the courage to stand up to your father, even if it almost turned terrible."

"You'd be amazed what you or anyone could be capable of under certain circumstances," Ferris added, bustling over to the Freedom Wall and examining the stars representing servicemen killed in action, "I'm sure a lot of these men had doubts of how brave they could be too. And all of them found it in the clutch and became heroes. And because they were heroes, the world would never be ruled by people espousing Mr. Rooney's philosophy of oppression and no fun. Well, shall we go meet Abe, then?"

Another couple of minutes later found them staring up at Lincoln's statue inside the Lincoln Memorial. "And speaking of bravery," Ferris continued, "Abe could have turned tail and given up during the Civil War at any time. But no, he pressed on to hold this great nation of ours together because he believed there were still great days to come. Because he chose to be brave, black Americans learned what it was like to be free, and slavery was destroyed for good."

"And he got shot for it, go figure," Cameron shrugged.

"But he got it done," Sloane argued, "And the country was better off for it for sure, even if it took another hundred years to get black Americans their full rights. So, now what?" she asked Ferris.

"First, I've got to do something I've wanted to do my whole life," Ferris strode out to the edge of the memorial's top step and looked down towards the reflection pool. "Well," he said out loud in his best slow-witted Southern drawl, "There's only one thing I can say about the war in Viet-Nam: in Viet-Nam, your..."

"Your principal's right here now at ten o'clock!" a pale Cameron pointed to the left. For Rooney was clearly visible moving through the crowd around the memorial's base, taking with various people he passed. "Oh, uh, oh..." Ferris stammered, quickly sliding out of sight behind one of the memorial's columns before Rooney could spot him, "I was pretty sure the toilet concoction would have left him in the bathroom longer than this...!"

"I gave him the full dose of both bottles!" Sloane insisted, joining him behind the pillar.

"I trust you did. He's just got more stamina than we thought. Think, think...!" Ferris glanced around the memorial, his gaze zeroing in an a mother lifting her infant child out of a large stroller on the other side and carrying it over to read the inscriptions over Lincoln's head-and then a homeless couple lounging by the reflecting pool. "OK," he told his girlfriend and best friend, "I've got an insanely stupid plan that just might work."

"We should probably surrender, then," Cameron lamented. Ferris took his arm and bustled over to the other side of the memorial, Sloane quickly in tow. Checking to make sure the mother wasn't looking, he snatched the stroller and wheeled it down the memorial steps, keeping a large crowd of people coming up between them and Rooney's sightlines. He rushed for the homeless couple. "Afternoon," he greeted them, "I'm Junior Agent Bueller of the brand new Junior Division of the FBI. I'm on a top secret spy mission here; I'll need to confiscate your clothes and your blanket here," he pointed to it underneath them, "In return, I'm prepared to reimburse you both with forty dollars for a new set of decent clothes at the nearest store to here."

* * *

"Have you seen this boy?" Rooney demanded to a man on the memorial steps, flashing a picture of Ferris at him.

"Nope," the man shook his head and bustled off before the principal could ask any follow-up questions. Rooney bustled along the edge of the reflecting pool, his eyes squinting up towards the Lincoln statue in the temple for any sign of Ferris. He was in fact so intent in this that he failed to watch were he was going and bumped into a couple in ragged clothing who were pushing a baby stroller covered with a large blanket. "Watch where you're going, you tramps!" he barked at them, "Have you seen this boy...?"

"Sorry, got to get home for dinner, sir," the man said in a deep voice, keeping his head down. He and the woman strained to push the stroller away. "Filthy tramps," Rooney muttered, turning to walk towards the memorial steps, "There should be a law..."

He came to a sudden stop. "I've heard that guy's voice before...on my office phone on Ferris's last day skipped..." he mused, a dark look spreading on his face. He spun back around. Sure enough, a teenager's legs, scrunched up but clearly visible, could be seen dangling off the bottom of the stroller. "Got you, Ferris," he snickered, starting back down the stairs in pursuit of the stroller...

...only to have a massive crowd of tourists bustled down the memorial steps into his path, cutting him off. "Move, people, move!" he bellowed, pushing his way through them. He strained to look over their heads for any sign of Ferris, but there were too many heads in his way. Finally, after a minute, he pushed through to the other side of the crowd and looked around wildly. Sure enough, he caught brief glimpse of the "homeless couple"-Petersen and Frye, no doubt, he assumed-pushing the stroller into the trees to the side of the memorial. Rooney stomped after them as fast as he could and soon had caught up with the couple. "All right, Ferris, now I've got you!" he shouted, pushing past the couple and grabbing into the stroller...

...which, unfortunately for him, contained nothing but an actual baby, which started screaming at the top of its lungs in his hands. "TAKE YOUR HANDS OFF MY BABY, YOU CREEP!" the angry actual mother screeched furiously at him.

"I...I...I...I'm t-t-terribly s-s-sorry, madam...!" Rooney stammered in horror, quickly putting the baby back into the stroller, "I...I thought you were someone else...!"

"Filthy baby snatcher!" the equally angry husband pulled Rooney close and punched him hard square in the balls. Rooney's reactive scream proved to be even more high-pitched than that of the still crying baby. The mother then began pummeling him hard with her purse, as too did several other mothers nearby who'd witnessed the principal's actions. Meanwhile, inside the nearby bushes, Ferris had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing. "Now he'll really want to go to the bathroom to get out of this one," he chuckled to Sloane and Cameron next to him, "Good thing we lucked out having those two look just like us."

"Can we get out of here now, before he does get out of this one? He's going to be higher than a ten on the anger scale for having been tricked like this," Cameron hissed.

"Sure thing, Cameron," Ferris started crawling the opposite direction from the melee through the bushes, "What do you say we head on down to the Tidal Basin next after we get these clothes off and check out what they have there?"

* * *

"I'm not really comfortable coming into this neighborhood," Jeannie complained to Garth back in Chicago as he pulled into a disreputable-looking alley on the outskirts of the city, "I can see why half your drug deals went down in here; I don't think the cops even show up here."

"Not usually," Garth climbed out of his car and checked his watch, "Chubbs should be here any minute; he was always punctual whenever he was making a delivery."

"And how do we know he's a good informant?" Jeannie had to ask.

"He's been in the drug business for over fifteen years; anything illegal that goes on in the Chicago area, he knows about. Here he comes now," Garth pointed to the other end of the alley, where a van was slowly coming to a stop. A man hopped out of the driver's seat and slid open the side door, then lowered a ramp to the ground. Down it wheeled a morbidly obese man in a wheelchair, with a breathing tube in his nose and an attendant walking behind him holding an oxygen tank. "Garth, good to see you," he wheeled up to the former addict, "Haven't seen you in a while."

"I've decided I want to quit, Chubbs," Garth told him, "And with all due respect, you probably should have too, looking at you."

"Yeah, I know," Chubbs shook his head grimly, "I sampled too much of the stuff over the years. Had a bad stroke three months ago; doc says I've got no more than six months left. Looking back now, I would have done a lot differently," he sighed sadly.

"Sorry to hear it, Chubbs. Well, anyway, I called you because I've been sent by Ferris Bueller on a big mission," Garth explained.

"Oh, Ferris Bueller. Is he feeling any better?" Chubbs asked him.

"Perfectly all right; in fact, never better in his life!" Jeannie snapped with a roll of her eyes. She collected herself and told the drug dealer, "Ferris wants to help a kid whose family was attacked and run out of their house and business up in Glencoe. We were wondering if, being who you are, you knew anything about that, and anything that might be rotten about Prince Construction."

"Prince Construction, huh?" Chubbs's brow furled, "Funny you should mention that. One of my former guys mentioned offhand he was doing a job for them not long ago."

"What was his name?" Jeannie pressed him.

"His name's Wilson Karkovice. He worked as an enforcer for my organization for a few months a couple of years ago, but I had to throw him out," Chubbs told her.

"Why?"

"Too violent for my liking. I don't like to rough my competitors up unless they rough my guys up first. Will was a loose cannon; he massacred a dozen of one rival gang on their own turf, and had everyone he didn't shoot beaten up. I don't like that at all. So I gave him his walking papers. I'd kept tabs on him, for my own and my guys' safety; he fell in with the mob and started doing jobs for them. When I..."

He went into a coughing fit and started wheezing for air. He waved frantically to his aide, who turned up the oxygen for him. "Thanks," he gasped once he'd regained his breath. "Fried my lungs from smoking too much weed," he glumly told the teens, "I need air twenty-four/seven..."

"You were saying about Karkovice!?" Jeannie snapped impatiently.

"Oh, yeah. Crossed paths with Will about three weeks ago in a North Side restaurant. He didn't have any hard feeling about being fired," Chubbs went on, "Probably because he's earning more where he is now. He crowed he's gained a high place in the mob, and his particular family was being contracted by a big hitter that was making a fortune tearing down what they consider blighted properties. He didn't mention it by name, but I could guess it was Prince Construction; I know for a fact Ronald Prince has given out dirty money before to get some of his projects built."

"No surprise there; for all the contributions he's thrown at City Hall, I always thought some of the cash came from dubious sources," Garth muttered. "Anything else?" he asked his former dealer.

"Yeah, actually; he said he had another job coming in southern Illinois in the near future, same as he was doing before. He didn't give specifics, but he mentioned some guy named Bert was throwing in a huge bonus for the job."

"Bert...isn't Bob Tannen's brother named Bert?" Garth shot Jeannie a look.

"Yeah, I think so," she nodded, "And he runs that big financial firm downtown. OK, would you be willing to testify to all this in court if it comes to that?" she asked Chubbs.

"Maybe. Since I don't got long left, I'd probably ask for immunity, but if innocent people are getting hurt bad, yeah, I'd probably go along with it."

"All right. Well, we'll keep you in touch with where we go from here," Garth told the dealer, "Don't tell anyone we were here to see you."

"Right. Oh, and one more thing, Garth," Chubbs told him as he and Jeannie had turned to leave. "When you go home, spread the word to everyone you know: never use drugs," the dealer said, sadness on his face, "Even a little bit of it'll leave you like me, on permanent deathwatch," he pointed at his overweight frame.

"I'll do what I can, Chubbs. Take care till then," Garth bade him farewell with a sad expression of his own. "Yeah, I made the right decision to try and straighten out," he admitted to Jeannie, "I certainly don't want to end up like that. OK, might as well forward what we've found out to Ferris..."

* * *

"Tannen's brother, perhaps working with the mob to help Prince Construction force people out of their homes? Very interesting indeed," Ferris raised his eyebrows at Jeannie's text on his cell phone. He typed in WELL DONE. NEXT STEP: THE TWO OF YOU CASE PRINCE CONSTRUCTION OR BERT TANNEN'S OFFICE AND SEE WHAT EITHER OF THEM HAS THERE. AND OF COURSE, DON'T GET CAUGHT, and hit the Send button. "And so the plot thickens," he told Cameron and Sloane, who were walking with him along Ohio Drive on their way back from the Tidal Basin in the early evening darkness, "What happened to Jerry's family just might be the tip of a bigger iceberg."

"Prince must really be greedy if they're hiring out to the mob to force people who won't sell out," Sloane muttered in disgust, "And if Tannen's brother was working with Prince, that gives the senator good reason to want any trace of the activity covered up."

"Exactly. So now we have to double our efforts to get into the senator's phone and computer," Ferris said firmly, "I have a few ideas, but right now, each has a flaw we'd need to overcome."

"Terrific," Cameron mumbled. He glanced at his watch for the fifth time in the last ten minutes, "Uh, I know I've said it before, but isn't it about time we try and get back to the motel, or wherever we are going to stay for the night? It's almost nine o'clock now, and I'm not completely comfortable being in the heart of a major city after dark," he admitted nervously to his friends.

"Of course, Cameron; we'll just have to find the right place. And price won't be a problem, because, on top of everything else," Ferris drew a piece of paper from his jacket pocket with a mischievous grin, "I've got Mr. Rooney's credit card information. If he was so bent on making this trip a quasi-military experience, then he can pay for whatever we do outside his planned schedule. It's only fair as I see it."

"Oh certainly," Sloane grinned in triumph. "So, did you enjoy the day, Cameron?" she asked him.

"Uh, yeah, actually," Cameron admitted with a small grin, "And with no pressure to get home, I felt like I enjoyed it more this time. Still, like I said, I'd like to get indoors soon," he looked around nervously again, "People hang around down here after hours that tend to..."

"Say, you hear that?" Sloane abruptly held up her hand. Ferris heard it too: a car screaming up Ohio Avenue ahead of them well over the speed limit. Moments later, a truck that had just passed by the teens on the other side of the street blared its horn while going around the bend in front of them. Tires screeched, and a car suddenly shot off the side of the road at the curve and sailed down the embankment towards the Potomac. It smashed hard into a dock on the bank-so hard, in fact, that the dock shattered completely and started drifting out into the middle of the Potomac, taking the now overturned and wrecked car with it. Another horn made Ferris's eyes shoot in the opposite direction. A large barge was chugging rapidly up the river, and, he could tell after turning back forward again that it was on a collision course with the car, which was drifting right into its path. "Oh my God!" a horrified Sloane stared straight at the wreck, "We've got to do something!"

"And we will," Ferris's gaze now turned to a construction site just up the road, with a large crane towering over it, "Come with me, I've got an idea. Cameron, this is your time to shine; swim on out there and get whoever's in there out of the car before it gets flattened by the barge," he told his friend.

"What!? Are you crazy!?" Cameron protested, "There's no way I'd get out there in time!" he pointed into the river, "And I'd get killed myself!"

"Cameron, whoever's in that car's in grave danger! You've wanted your time to shine; this is it!" Sloane pleaded with him, "Now go on, prove yourself the hero!"

"But...but...why can't either of you do it!?" Cameron begged her and Ferris.

"Cameron, trust me, your the only one who can do this!" Ferris put both hands on his friend's shoulders and gave him a firm look, "I trust you, and I know you can do what's right when it counts. A human life's at stake; show me I'm right in believing in you. Now hurry and get out there; we don't have much time!"

He took off running before Cameron could get a word in. "Are you absolutely sure we can trust him to help!?" Sloane had to ask, huffing to keep up with her boyfriend.

"Keep an eye on him; if he's not in the water in thirty seconds, you do it!" Ferris shouted back to her. He and Sloane glanced back at Cameron, who was pacing nervously along the embankment, clearly torn on what to do. He took a glance at the car, which was drifting further into the river, then shrugged, pulled off his shoes, and dove into the river, stroking hard towards the car. "Good job, Cam, I knew you'd at least try," Ferris nodded in relief. "Stay here," he told Sloane, coming to a brief stop at a clearing along the bank halfway to the construction site, "If he flounders, dive in and cover for him. If not, help me direct the crane down to the water."

He rushed off before Sloane could ask any further questions. The gates of the construction site were padlocked shut, but a sharp kick from him burst the gates open. He rushed up to the steel skeleton that was going up on site and leaped the staircase to the elevator two steps at a time. He threw the power switch on, opened the elevator door, and thrust the control lever all the way up, sending him shooting upwards towards the top level of the soon-to-be building. "Yeah, I know, it's awfully convenient for this crane to be right here, and for me to get able to get to it this easy," he said out loud, as if answering someone's criticism, "But that's the perk of being the hero in these stories; a lot of things'll conveniently fall into place for you at the right time. Now I just hope Cameron can get whoever it is out of the car in time..."

The elevator came to an abrupt stop at the top floor in a flash. Ferris raced along the beam to the crane. Also conveniently, the keys were hanging on a hook right outside the door-and, once he'd unlocked it, the control levers' functions were clearly marked inside. Ferris turned the key in the ignition and pulled the lever to swing the crane's arm out over the Potomac. His gaze shot back to the river. Cameron was just about to reach the car-but so too was the barge. Its horn sounded shrilly, the captain likely having finally seen the wrecked car in his path, although much too late to prevent a collision. "Come on Cameron, hurry it up!" he pleaded his friend. With a final stretch of frantic butterfly strokes, Cameron reached the dock's remains, kicked the driver's side window in, and desperately pulled the driver out. "Jump, jump, now!" Ferris begged him. Cameron indeed swan-dove off the dock with the victim and started stroking to shore, moments before the barge smashed into the dock, shattering it and the car clean in two. Ferris grimaced at the impact even from his high perch. "OK Sloane, keep an eye on them and tell me which way!" he shouted down to his girlfriend below.

"Swing it out to your left!" Sloane shouted up to him, her voice barely audible over the hum of the crane's machinery. Ferris threw the appropriate lever, swinging the crane to the left. "Too far, too far; bring it back!" Sloane shouted, trying to keep one eye on the crane and the other on Cameron in the river, "Hurry, I think Cameron can't hold whoever he's got up and keep swimming much longer!"

Indeed, Ferris could see Cameron starting to flounder with the figure in his arms. He quickly swung the crane back to the right, then dropped it down to the river in a flash. Cameron desperately stroked for it, briefly going under but managing to pull himself and the victim back to the surface after a few seconds. Finally, with a last burst, he grabbed hold of it. Ferris immediately threw the switch backwards, raising the crane hook, with Cameron holding on tight, out of the Potomac. He swung it back towards the shore and softly lowered them down to dry land. "Got them; go help them!" he called down to Sloane, who nodded and ran in the direction the crane had come down. Ferris switched the crane back off and rushed back down the scaffolding to ground level. In about four minutes, he'd reached the site where he'd deposited his friend. "How is whoever it is!?" he asked breathlessly, reaching Cameron just seconds after Sloane had.

"Not good; I think she got a concussion from the crash. And Ferris, take a look at who it was..." Cameron numbly rolled the victim over on her back. Ferris's eyes went wide to see exactly who it was. "First Daughter Natalie Simmons...!" Sloane gasped herself at the sight of the president's teenage daughter on the ground before them, unconscious, "What was she doing driving like that on this road...she's not breathing; did she go under!?" she pressed Cameron worriedly.

"Of course she went under; you saw me struggling to stay afloat myself!" Cameron snapped, fear in his voice from the experience. He glanced down worriedly at the First Daughter. "You know, she does look prettier in person than she does on TV..."

"Move!" Sloane pushed him aside and started administering CPR to Natalie. "Come on, come on!" she begged, trying it again when nothing happened. On the third attempt, however, Natalie jerked about and coughed up a large mouthful of water. "Thank God," Sloane breathed in relief, turning at the sound of sirens approaching. "You're going to be all right now," she told the other girl, bending down to pick her up, "Help me get her to the ambulances, guys."

"She's prettier than she is on TV, yeah, but she's also heavier," Ferris remarked, straining to get Natalie's legs. He saw Cameron, supporting the First Daughter's midsection, staring intently at her face with deep concern. "I know what you're thinking," he turned backwards, "And just maybe it will be. Or maybe not. Stay tuned..."


	6. Ferris and the First Daughter

AUTHOR'S NOTE: As with the other John Hughes-based fan stories of mine you may have read on this site, the major secondary character you're about to meet was written with John Candy in mind. Given how much a part of the Hughes canon he would be in the end, it just seems natural to I to insert a role of some kind for him in fan stories for films in which he did not appear in life. Moving on...

* * *

"Two hours," Ferris mumbled, staring at the clock in the hospital's waiting room, "Hope that means everything's OK..."

"She seemed decent enough when they were loading her into the ambulance, other than the fact she was drunk out of her mind; her whole breath was doused with alcohol when I revived her," Sloane told him, shifting about uncomfortably in her seat, "What was she doing driving like that, and where were all the Secret Service agents to keep her from doing it?"

She turned to look Ferris right in the eye. "You took a real chance asking Cameron to go get her knowing how easily he could crumble under the pressure, and I think he almost did," she admonished him.

"Yeah, I know I took a chance," Ferris admitted, "But what it came down to was, I trust Cameron implicitly to make the right decision when it counts, and he came through. Just look at him," he pointed across the room, where Cameron was standing stone still in front of the doors to the operating room, staring into it, "Ever since her father was elected, he's been transfixed by her. I've seen it every time the whole Simmons family's been on TV at a campaign rally or something like that. I think to him, she's the ultimate possibility, the one dream girl he's wanted because she is who she is, and he thinks she's so great that he has no chance with her. Well, considering..."

"Shh," Sloane silenced him, pointing up the hall, where a pair of sunglass-wearing Secret Service agents were bustling towards the reception room. A large rotund and roly-poly man with red hair-a dead ringer, Ferris thought, for Mr. Griffith the shower curtain ring salesman who'd moved to town a few months ago, only without the mustache-rushed after them. "Hello there," he worriedly greeted the receptionist, "My name's Jim Hobor, I'm the White House's assistant deputy director of media relations. I've heard that..."

"Operating room right now; what took you guys so long?" the receptionist raised a surprised eyebrow.

"I took a wrong turn in my hysteria, and traffic was too bad to...Doctor," Hobor rushed towards one coming out of the operating room now, "Were you working on...!?"

"The big important patient, yeah," the doctor finished the sentence for him, "She'll be OK; she had a mild concussion from the crash, but she's up and about now."

"Good, good," Hobor breathed a deep sigh of relief, "Uh, well, I am going to have ask a little favor, much as I hate to," he dug out his wallet, "For a down payment of, oh, five hundred dollars plus a big promotion to head doctor here, would you be willing to not say anything about this to the press or anyone?"

"Are you trying to buy my silence?" the doctor frowned at him, "Mister, she may be the president's daughter, but from what I've seen from what the police showed me, she was completely out of control tonight. A hundred and ten miles an hour in the downtown area and a number of near collisions with other drivers before she did crash. Need I also point out her blood alcohol content when I examined her was 0.21, and she had a decent amount of opioids in her system?"

"She's, she's not usually a drinker, Doc; I should know; her dad's assigned me to essentially look over her when he's not here in town," Hobor explained, digging deeper into his wallet, "Now like I said, I really don't like doing this, I think it's inherently wrong too, but if I up the bid to a thousand and swear on the Bible to make sure she never does it again, can I get your word none of this gets out?"

"I don't think that..."

"Let me put it this way, Doc: the press secretary told me after he got the news about the crash that if I don't pull this off, I'm fired. So please, for a hardworking low level everyday guy like me...?" Hobor gave the doctor such a pleading look of desperation that the man sighed and mumbled, "OK, I'll think about it. She's up and about now if you want to take her back to 1600 Penn. But please make sure it never happens again, because next time I will go public no matter what you throw at me. And above all, thank these kids with all your heart and soul," he gestured at Ferris and his friends across the waiting room, "If they hadn't been right by the spot she went into the river, she'd probably be at the bottom of it now. I'll go get the release paperwork for you to sign, Mr. Harbor; she's in Room 86."

"It's Hobor," the president's man corrected him. He watched the doctor disappear back into the operating room, then slumped to the floor and let out a deep sigh of relief. "That was too close," he mumbled out loud, "If anything had happened to her, we'd both be in for it..."

He turned towards Ferris and the others. "So you're the ones that pulled her out of the river?" he asked, rising back up and rushing over to them, "I can't thank the three of you enough for doing it. If there's anything I can give you as a reward..."

"We'll think it over," Ferris told him; better not to play any cards until he knew what the entire hand was, he reasoned deep down, "The name's Ferris Bueller; this is Sloane Petersen and Cameron Frye," he gestured at his girlfriend and best friend, "And we're glad to have been readily available to perform such a great service for the presidency."

"Believe me, so am I. I'm Jim Hobor, and like I told the lady over there, I've been assigned to look after Nat while her folks are out," the man told them, "I'll be taking her home now if she's OK. Bill, come with me; Phil, go fill out the paperwork," he instructed the Secret Service agents. "You kids can come with me," he waved Ferris and the others to follow him, "I think at a minimum you deserve to get her thanks face to face."

"Well we appreciate it, Mr. Hobor," Ferris said, following him through the operating room doors.

"Call me Jim. For helping her like that, I think we've earned the right to be on a first name basis, Ferris, I guess you said. Here we go," Jim noted the sign for Room 86 on the door to his right and entered it. "Evening," he said firmly to Natalie, who was seated upright in the hospital bed, her head bandaged, "How are we feeling?"

"I've got a splitting headache," the First Daughter groaned, grasping at the bandages, "I don't remember the crash, but it hurts even after..."

"Nat, what were you thinking!?" Jim grew very stern, "From what I've heard, you were utterly plastered out there on the road, and you almost killed a couple people besides almost killing yourself. If you wanted a night out, why didn't you come to me instead of sneaking out like that!?"

"Because I wanted to be free, not chained to some overweight nursemaid!" Natalie snapped back, "I couldn't take it in there anymore; I wanted to live again!"

"Nat, getting drunk and high is not getting free," Jim shook his head grimly, "I had to offer the doctor a thousand bucks to cover this up, and you know how much I hate to stoop to that. You better thank God for these kids," he gestured Ferris and the others forward, "They were walking right by the river when you went into it; if it wasn't for their quick thinking, I'd be claiming your body at the morgue now, if there'd even be anything to recover. So don't you have something to say to them?"

"I, I guess so. Thank you," Natalie turned gratefully to Ferris and his friends, "I don't know what I can do to repay you...?"

"Well," Ferris cut in quickly, "If anyone deserves a reward, it's Cameron here," he pushed his best friend forward, "He was the one who saw you go into the Potomac, yelled for the rest of us to get to the crane we fished you out with, and dove in without a second thought to get to you."

"Ferris, what are you doing...!?" Cameron frowned quizzically at him.

"Oh come on, Cameron, don't be so modest," Ferris interrupted, patting him on the shoulder, "His very words when he saw the crash were, 'I'm getting her out of there, guys; stand by for me.' Weren't they, Sloane?" he asked his girlfriend with raised eyebrows.

"Oh, oh, yes," Sloane nodded, picking up his drift, "Cameron just tore out there to get you without a thought for himself," she told Natalie with a smile, "In fact, the crane wasn't really needed in the end; he had you practically to shore when we got it in the water."

"Did he now?" Natalie sat straight up and looked a flummoxed Cameron warmly in the eye. "Well thank you very much, Cameron, that was very brave of you."

"I...this...I'm...well..." Cameron stammered for something to say, "Uh...just, just a spur of the moment thing, I guess," was the best he could ultimately come up with.

"I think this calls for a special reward for him, doesn't it, Jim?" Natalie asked her caretaker.

"I don't see why not," Jim smiled at Cameron as well, "So what would you like most of all, young man?"

"Um, um, uh, um..." Cameron stammered again, his eyes zeroing in on Natalie again, then quickly pulling away. "Well, Jim," Ferris spoke up quickly, "we'd like one simple request first. We're in town on a field trip, and the motel we're been assigned is, quite simply, the pits. So, I was wondering, if, for starters, at least for tonight..."

* * *

"Hello, 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue," he said with a satisfied grin, climbing out of the Secret Service's van in front of the White House's front entrance, "Daddy's come home."

"I still think we ought to call your motel and let them know you kids are here..." Jim said, climbing out of the front passenger seat and opening the side door for Natalie to climb down.

"Oh don't bother with it, Jim; they earned this," Natalie told him. "Come on, Cameron," she eagerly waved him out of the van, "You can have the Lincoln Bedroom; it's the best guest room in the place."

"Uh...uh...thanks," a nervous Cameron managed to say. "Ferris what did you get me into!?" he desperately whimpered in his best friend's ear as they and Sloane walked towards the front door, "The most popular and important girl in the country thinks I'm a big hero now! How can I face her when she finds out I'm a worthless coward!?"

"Then the key is not to be a worthless coward going forward," Ferris whispered back, "And since you did swim out there and get her out in time, you're already halfway there. Good evening," he waved happily at the Secret Service agents guarding the door, "We're with the First Daughter; you guys are doing a great job."

"Everything's OK, Nat's just fine," Jim told them with an overeager smile. When he got nothing but stony silence from the men, he winced and whimpered, "I'm a dead man if this leaks out...!"

"Hello baby," Ferris broke into a huge grin inside the White House's entrance hall. "This is what I've lived for, a night at the center of the world!" he declared, spinning madly in a circle. "Sloane, get me with George," he called to her, leaping to a bust of George Washington and pretending to kiss the first president while she took his picture. "Now get me in the Green Room..." he posed in its doorway, "...and now the Blue Room...and now the Red Room..."

"And now the elevators are over here," Natalie called to him, having pressed the button for it. Ferris and Sloane joined her and Cameron in it. A quick minute later, it arrived on the Executive Mansion's second floor. "Lincoln Bedroom's down there on the left; Ferris, Sloane, you get the Queen's Bedroom over there on the right," the First Daughter pointed to it.

"Sounds good to me...ooooooooh yeeeeeeeaaaaahhh," Ferris gushed at the exquisite interior of the Queen's Bedroom. "If this isn't opulence, I don't know what is."

"Definitely a hundred times better than the motel, that's for sure," Sloane agreed, setting her purse down on the bed.

"Well, the loveliest girl in the entire United States certainly deserves nothing but the best as far as I'm concerned," Ferris pulled her close for a kiss, "As too does Cameron," he glanced across the hall at the Lincoln Bedroom, "That's why..."

"I know. Just looking out for him as a friend," Sloane grinned, "Now let's hope he's got the courage to keep being who she apparently thinks he is."

"Like I said, I trust him. Shall we?" Ferris waved her across the hall to the Lincoln Bedroom. Cameron was staring out the window at the lights of Washington's skyline. "I don't deserve this, you know I don't," he said without turning around, sensing them having come in behind him.

"Oh yes you do," Sloane rubbed his shoulder, "Like Ferris said, you did pull her out in time."

"But I'm..." Cameron tried to come up with something to say, but failed. His eyes widened as Natalie entered the room with several bowls in hand. "Ice cream?" she asked them.

"Why not? Of course, Cameron deserves the biggest serving," Ferris pointed at him.

"Oh of course. For the boy who saved my life, anything," Natalie handed Cameron the biggest one. "Uh.. thank you," Cameron mumbled, stumbling to sit down on the bed, "Uh, well, Natalie, it's uh, great to meet you, and, um, I'm glad to be of service..."

"Oh he's being modest again. What he wants to say, Natalie, is that he's been infatuated with you ever since your father decided to run for the presidency," Ferris spoke up again.

"Ferris, no...!" Cameron desperately pleaded with him through gritted teeth.

"Well it's the truth, Cam," Sloane added, "Every time your father made a public speech, and you were with him, he couldn't stop staring at you," she told Natalie, "We could see in his eyes that...what?" her tone got concerned, for Natalie had slumped her head down into her knees. "I wish he'd never run for the presidency!" she lamented.

"Oh, are you lonely?" Sloane asked, worried.

"Since you asked, yes," the First Daughter nodded sadly, "I was happy back in Michigan; sure, there were public appearances as the governor's daughter and all that, but at least I fit in, I had friends, I felt normal. When he won the election, I was uprooted away from all that. This is nothing but a prison without bars," she gestured around the Lincoln Bedroom with contempt, "None of my friends come to visit, I can't go anywhere unless Mom and Dad want me to do something official; I'm a prisoner. And...and Dad's changed. The moment he won the presidency, something changed. He hardly remembers me anymore; it's all either important state meetings or running around with donors for his reelection campaign next year. He left for the Middle East this week not even caring that tomorrow's my b...my b..."

She let out a wail of grief, one tinged with the pain of a forgotten child. "Your birthday?" Cameron asked cautiously, sliding ever so slightly closer to her and reaching out for her shoulder, but ultimately pulling back, "That, yeah, that hurts bad. But don't feel too bad. My dad tried to shoot me when he found I'd wrecked his Ferrari a few months ago. He's serving hard time for it now."

"Oh?" she looked up, "That's terrible."

"Forget about it. Unless he shows any actual remorse when he gets out, I'm done with him. For favoring his stupid car over me all the time, he deserves to lose me," Cameron muttered bitterly. "So yeah, I know how you feel," he hesitantly turned towards Natalie and locked eyes with her, "I know what it's like to be passed over for something else. And it hurts bad, yeah, more than you can imagine."

"So let me guess, then," Ferris spoke up, "That what happened tonight was your attempt to, if you will, take a day, or in this case, night off, Natalie?"

"You could say that," she nodded, "I wanted to taste what freedom felt like again. You understand, right?"

"Well, I understand, yeah, but you know, there are much better ways to do it," Ferris told her firmly, "Cameron, Sloane, and I took a day off school a while back, but we took it off positively, seeing the sights of Chicago and everything. That's the way to make the best of life and a day off. Not getting drunk and high and nearly killing yourself. What exactly were you thinking?"

"I don't know what I was thinking," Natalie fought back tears again, "I was just so angry at Dad and Mom for abandoning me for my birthday, and everyone with the Secret Service keeping me in here-I wanted to rebel as much as I could. Once I got out, I went around to at least five bars, drank as much as I could, bought God knows what from some guy on the street...oh what was I thinking!?" she lamented, slumping into Cameron's chest and breaking down again, "Jim's right; I could have killed myself, could have killed any number of people! I just wish this whole nightmare would end, and I'd wake up back home with my friends again!"

Fighting tears himself, Cameron slowly put his arms around her. "It's...it's OK, I understand, we all understand," he managed to say, then looked to Ferris for approval. Ferris flashed him a thumbs up. "Yeah, we understand, Natalie," he added himself, "No one should be alone on their birthday. Speaking of which," his eyes lit up, "Let me make a proposition for you then. I can help arrange the best birthday tomorrow for you I can, if you agree to help us."

"Huh?" she looked up, "How can you help me?"

"Because he's Ferris Bueller, and he can make things happen," Sloane told her, giving her boyfriend a wink, "And in the meantime, we're working on something that someone in your position might be able to really help with."

"What?" Natalie asked. Ferris told her all about Jerry's predicament and their pursuit of evidence against Senator Tannen. "I've never trusted Senator Tannen myself, personally," the First Daughter grumbled when he'd finished, "He's been eyeing Dad's job enviously since we arrived here. And he's always seemed to me like someone who might be dealing in bad things, even if everyone else in the capital thinks highly of him. Well, for all of you helping me," she flashed Cameron another smile, "I'd be glad to help if you could manage a good birthday celebration for me."

"Oh, I've got some ideas," Ferris's grin got wider, "Trust me, you'll like it. Now, in turn, we'd like to be able to get into Tannen's phone and computer records and see exactly who he's been dealing with..."

"Say no more," Natalie held up a hand, looking much happier now, "It so happens I'm a bit of a computer expert myself..."

"Wonderful. So, once we finish this ice cream, how about we go take a tour of the West Wing and Situation Room?" Ferris proposed.

* * *

"So this is where it all comes together," he mused about fifteen minutes later, looking into the Press Briefing Room. He jumped up to the podium. "I want the people to know that they still have two out of three branches of the government working for them, and that ain't bad," he declared in his best Jack Nicholson impression.

"Hold that pose," Sloane aimed her cell phone at him and took his picture. "We'll have to get one in the Oval Office too when we're done."

"As long as you don't get any classified material, that should be fine," Jim, who'd volunteered to show them the West Wing, stuck his head around the corner, "Situation Room's down the stairs to your left," he pointed. "Enjoying it, Ferris?" he hung back and asked him as the others bustled down the stairs to the Situation Room.

"More than you can imagine, Jim," Ferris gave him a thumbs-up.

"You know, I couldn't help listening in in the hall earlier," the president's man looked straight at him, "You were discussing some pretty extreme things about bringing down Bob Tannen back there. Hacking into his phone and computers and everything..."

"So you heard. Yeah, I might be stretching it a bit with that. But we've got to do it. I have sufficient reason to believe he's ruined some people's lives already, and is therefore unfit for both the presidency and his Senate seat," Ferris repeated all the information he'd told to Natalie about Tannen to Jim. "He did always strike me as that sort of guy, to be honest," Jim confessed. "Well you know, Ferris, there probably are better ways to do this..."

"Problem is, I don't know what they are. So yeah, I know what I have in mind is stretching the boundaries, but I think it needs to be done. So, if I may ask, would you happen to know any judges who work really slow in getting wiretap warrants approved?" Ferris inquired, "My logic being, if it travels through the system slow enough so that the cover's blown on Tannen by the time it comes before the judge, it'll be approved in a flash."

"Well, that's taking a big risk...but what the heck, I'm here, might as well do some good in this position. I'll make the call first thing in the morning to one judge I know definitely pussyfoots around," Jim agreed.

"Thanks. And see if we can get Tannen's schedule for the rest of the week; I'd like to know more or less where he is every waking minute while we're here," Ferris asked him. It was his turn to look straight at Jim. "Are you happy here, if I may ask?"

"Well, if you must know..." Jim came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs and leaned against the wall. "I always wanted to serve in government; as a kid, I wanted to be president," he began, looking nostalgic, "I became a campaign activist for the party back home in Rockford, and once Matthew Simmons announced he was running for the presidency, I volunteered for him in a heartbeat. He looked different from all the other candidates; he looked honorable, honest, someone who'd really make a strong difference. And then...he won. And a different Matthew Simmons was born. One who clearly enjoyed being the president above everything else and started spending all his free time planning on how to be reelected. I hoped to get something important, but instead I got stuck being..." he checked his nametag to confirm his title, "assistant deputy director for media relations. Try getting people to remember that title. I don't even know what I'm supposed to be doing for it. Instead of getting to work to make things better for the public, I got essentially assigned to be Nat's guardian. Now I'm not complaining about that-I like the girl, and I really want to be her friend. I just...expected more. I wanted to do more for the American people. I believed in Matthew Simmons, and now the man basically blew off his daughter's birthday for some Middle Eastern autocrats who probably torture their people. It's frustrating..."

"I can guess," Ferris nodded knowingly, "No one wants to see their idols exposed as unworthy. It's disappointing to see what power can do to even the best of us-I should know, as power's made my principal a tyrant himself. Well, if you can pull a few more strings for me, I can help make her birthday terrific tomorrow, in exchange for you and her helping us."

"What've you got in mind?" Jim asked him. Ferris whispered his suggestions in the man's ear. The assistant deputy director for media relations grinned. "You really think big, Ferris Bueller, that's for sure. But I like you," he told the boy, "I'll see if I can set something up there. Now, let's see what we can do in the good old Situation Room..."

He and Ferris bustled into the primary conference room. Video screens on the wall showed images of various parts of the world. "Check it out, Ferris, an airstrike on terrorists in Somalia about to hit right now," Sloane pointed at one wall, showing green blips headed for the country in question.

"We really need more people in Yemen," Cameron commented, staring at another screen, "There's way too many extremist groups in there..."

"It's in here," Natalie called from the next room over, which had a number of computer consoles. "I told the guys on night duty there was an important phone call coming in from Kuwait, so we've got about a ten minute window to work with," she gestured around the now empty room and sat down behind one of the computers, "OK, what do you want me to dig up?"

"Bob Tannen's phone records from at least the last six months on both his office and his cell phone, plus all his e-mails for the last two years," Ferris told her, "We'd like to see everyone he's been touch with during that time."

"OK, that's workable. I can probably do that in six minutes," Natalie gave him a thumbs up, then started typing in information to the computer.

"Just be careful enough so it's not traced here, Nat," Jim advised her, pushing the room's door closed and bracing his large frame against it, "The way Tannen tries to champion populism to his base, he'd be the first to scream tyranny if he thinks the White House hacked him..."

"Not to worry, Jim; after spending all the time down here watching our guys crack all the Russian and Chinese codes, I know how to do this discreetly," Natalie assured him. "Oh, and sorry about calling you an overweight nursemaid earlier," she apologized to him, "You are pretty much the only friend I've got here."

"And I'm glad to be a friend for you," Jim smiled at her. He kept a wary glance out the room's window as the First Daughter digitally tapped into the phone and computer records. Finally, almost exactly six minutes later, she hit the enter key. "Done," she declared, pointing to the records on the screen.

"Good. Print them out, and we'll check them out," Ferris told her. She dutifully hit the print button, and pages started printing out behind them. "He's sure been calling a lot of people," Cameron squinted at the screen.

"Probably means he is running something big," Sloane rationalized, "So the sooner we can get these numbers IDed, the better."

"Yep," Ferris nodded. "Uh, Jim," he approached the man again, "A couple more requests while I'm at it. First, while I'm enjoying it here, since this is our senior trip, it doesn't seem right to leave everyone else in our class suffering back at the motel under Mr. Rooney's thumb. So, I was wondering if..."

"Well, how many are we talking about?"

"Five hundred and thirty-four seniors in this year's class at Shermer High, if that'll work."

"Five hundred, huh? Hmm," Jim's browed furled, "Well, you're in luck that there's no foreign dignitaries in town, as that means the Blair House is unoccupied across the street. If we go about eight or nine to a room, as well as the spare guests rooms in here-and make sure the staff doesn't tell the prez his house is going to be a temporary hotel-I think we can make it work."

"Great," Ferris shook his hand, "And, one more thing about the motel; I'd like to at least try and be back there tomorrow morning around seven thirty, so I can finish up a few loose ends there..."


	7. A Big Birthday Bash

"OK, what's the big deal here?" the manager of the Alexandria motel complained, bustling across the second level towards what had been booked as Ferris's room.

"Ed wants you to look in and confirm his theory Ferris Bueller isn't it there," Grace explained, gesturing at the scowling principal.

"Look mac, you were on me last night over it, and like I told you then, I can't invade the privacy of our guests without just cause. And listen, he's still snoring away in there," the manager pointed at the door, behind which loud snoring could be heard.

"And did you actually see him go into that room!?" Rooney grilled him.

"Well, no..."

"Then it's an obvious recording in there. As principal of Shermer High, I demand you take a look," Rooney ordered him, not noticing a sleek black car slowly pulling in behind the motel.

"And I told you before, the answer's no," the manager shook his head firmly.

"Fine, then I'll do it! If you want it done right, you have to do it yourself!" Rooney roared, "Stand clear," he waved Grace and the other teachers away from Ferris's door, "This door is coming down in ten seconds, and then we'll see exactly what we have here!"

"Impressive, Ed; you sound just like that Bambo guy," Grace commended him with a smile.

"RAMBO, Grace! Stand back..."

"You break that door, buddy, you bought it," the manager warned him. Rooney paid no heed and gave the door a sharp kick...and immediately let out a howl and hopped backwards clutching his foot in agony...backwards, in fact, right over the second floor railing, where he landed inside the motel's dumpster. Barely three seconds later, the room door creaked open. "Is something wrong out here?" Ferris, wearing only a T-shirt and underwear, stuck his head out, "I thought I heard people shouting..."

"Oh, nothing at all, Ferris; Mr. Rooney was just espousing some conspiracy theories, that's all," Mr. Jacobson told him, glaring over the railing at Rooney stumbling around in the dumpster, "Are you feeling better today?"

"Oh much better," Ferris flashed a big smile, "I think it was gas rather than an actual burst appendix. I'm all raring to go today."

"Oh that's wonderful," Grace clapped her hands in delight, "I'd hate to see any student get bedridden on...ED!" she cried down below, where the garbage truck had arrived and was dumping the dumpster, with Rooney in it, into its back. "Wait, stop!" the school secretary cried, "Don't throw Ed out! He's too valuable a principal to end up in the dump!"

The garbage truck instead gunned its engine and pulled out into the street with Rooney still in the back. The manager rolled his eyes in disgust. "If she catches up to him, tell him not to bother me about this kid again when clearly he's been here the whole time," he pointed at Ferris, "If he keeps it up, I may have to dump all of you to the curb."

"Don't worry, I'll make sure it's the last time you're bothered about it," Mr. Jacobson assured him. "Better get dressed, Ferris, we'll be heading out for the National Air and Space Museum in fifteen minutes," he told the boy.

"Great, Mr. Jacobson; I've wanted to really see that," Ferris told him with faux eagerness, "Say, tell Mr. Steinberg I'd love to hear him give a lecture on the history of flight."

"Well, I'll tell him you said that. Excuse me, got to get Mr. Rooney out of the garbage, much as he probably deserves being stuck in it," Mr. Jacobson shook his head in disgust and ran down the stairs after Grace. Ferris closed the door and breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm sure you're all wondering how I managed to get back in the room in time," he glanced back away from the door, "Well, some things in life are best left to the imagination, so I'll let you figure it out on your own. Meanwhile, thanks to Mr. Rooney putting himself out of the picture for now, that leaves the door wide open for another great day. So why don't we skip ahead here to the museum...?"

* * *

"Hello, remember me?" he tapped Jerry on the shoulder outside the National Air and Space Museum fifteen minutes later. "Ferris, good to see you again," Jerry greeted him, "Where'd you get to? Did you...?"

"In fact, we do have some new info, and some highly placed allies on our side now," Ferris told him, "I'll tell you about it in person in a moment; for now, spread the word to everyone else: prepare to head outside once we give the signal."

"What's the...?" Jerry started to ask him, but Ferris had already started bustling off to the other side of the crowd of students heading into the museum. "Class, can I have your attention please?" came Mr. Steinberg's monotone drawl from the center of the lobby, "May I have...class, can I have...?"

"Shhhhh!" Ferris hissed at his fellow seniors, which brought them to silence. Better to keep an appearance of normalcy until the right time, he knew. "Thank you, Bueller," Mr. Steinberg thanked him, his voice not changing pitch at all. "All right, class, as Ferris has told me I was doing a great job earlier, I'll try and go a little more in-depth today-trust me, you'll thank me for it later," he said in response to a number of loud groans, "So pay attention, class, I'm going into full detail on the displays you'll see here today."

"Think happy thoughts and block him out, pass it on," Ferris whispered softly to the girl next to him in the crowd. He took a deep breath as Mr. Steinberg began, "As you can see, class, we're standing in the lobby of the National Air and Space Museum. America's honorable heritage of being the first in various forms of flight is something that should be celebrated, and as you'll go through the museum with me, you'll learn many, many interesting facts. All right, if you'll look directly overhead," he pointed above them, "You'll see the Wright Brothers' Flyer, the very first plane to ever verifiably obtain unaided flight. In December 1903, Orville and Wilbur Wright, who in their normal lives were...anyone?...anyone?...bicycle salesmen, put all their previous years' efforts into this flying machine above you now. Their interest had started when Wilbur had written to the Smithsonian in the late 1890s asking for any and all information concerning flight; Orville joined him in the project soon afterwards. As it was, the head of the Smithsonian at the time was also trying flight experiments of his own. Anyone know his name, anyone? Anyone? Samuel Langley. And anyone know what's named in his honor for this attempt at flight, anyone? Langley Air Force Base. Langley had built a flying machine of his own; anyone know what he called it, anyone? Anyone? Anyone? An aerodrome. Twice, right before the Wright Brothers' flight, he attempted to fly the aerodrome. Anyone know how that turned out, anyone? Anyone? Both times, the plane immediately crashed into the river, and scientists today believe it would have been too heavy to fly anyway. Meanwhile, Orville and Wilbur had tested their theories of flight on the Kitty Hawk beaches with, anyone know what, anyone? Plane-shaped kites. They also used a rudimentary...anyone? Anyone? Anyone? An early wind tunnel to determine wind resistance and other key...key components of flight. It was Orville who would have the...the honor of flying the...the...the..."

His head slumped down, and he started snoring. This time his lecture had been so dull that he'd actually put himself to sleep. A few of the other students were snoring too, unable to have effectively heeded Ferris's warnings. Nonetheless, he knew it was time to exit the supervised part of the field trip. "Head quietly for the door, pass it on too," he told the girl next to him, then quickly walked for it, thus being the first one outside. "OK, Shermer High senior class," he announced out loud once everyone was outside, "We'll come back here on our own time later on. But for now, I'd like to introduce you to a very special girl named Natalie; you've probably heard of her," he pointed to the first of a long line of limousines parked in front of the museum, where Natalie stuck her head out of the door and waved, to cheers and a few cat calls. "Today happens to be her birthday, so I agreed that we could all celebrate it with her," Ferris continued, "So, if you'll all go about eight to a limo, we've got tickets for this morning's Washington Nationals game with the Cubs to help start the celebration, which will conclude this evening at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, which, I'm happy to say, she's gratefully agreed to let us stay at while her father's away trying to help the cause of the Free World."

An even louder cheer rose up as the senior class rushed for the limousines. Ferris scanned the crowd for Jerry, spotted him, and held up his hand to wave him to Natalie's limousine. He did the same for Sloane and Cameron to his right. "Jerry Greenfield, meet Natalie Simmons, who I guess you know well," he introduced them to each other as the limo pulled forward into the street, "We happened to cross paths last night. Jerry's the one I told you about we're trying to get justice for, Natalie."

"Nice to meet you," Natalie shook Jerry's hand, "Jerry Greenfield...just like the ice cream salesman..."

"Yeah, I do get that a lot," Jerry admitted, "So you're really going to try and help?" he asked her, amazed she would.

"Once Ferris and the others told me your story, I wanted to. My father may have lost touch with wanting to assist the average citizens, but I haven't. So tell me the whole story as you saw it unfold," she asked him. Jerry took a deep breath and once more related everything he'd told Ferris before. "So thanks to all that, my family's in bad straits, and I might have to give up college," he concluded grimly, "I want to believe Senator Tannen ordered the attack on my dad so the neighborhood could be leveled and rebuilt, and he could secretly profit off it. I hope we can get solid proof of some kind."

"Well, we found a few things of interest in fact, Jerry," Ferris reached under the seat for the print-outs from the other night, "We were able to tap into Tannen's phone records (Jerry shuffled about uncomfortably in his seat at such a major breach of law, but remained silent). He made seven separate calls to Ronald Prince around the time your father was being pressured to sell, as well as one on the night before you said the attack took place. Now of course we can't tell what was said on those calls a year and a half after the fact, But Natalie has volunteered to try and tap his office phone and his computer, with your permission."

"Uh, well...I don't know," Jerry seemed torn, "Unauthorized wiretaps by the president's daughter just doesn't seem right..."

"Yeah, I see why you might see it that way. But you and everyone else that has been run out of that neighborhood, and anyone else who might have been hurt in similar schemes, deserves justice. I'll stay reasonably within the bounds of morality, I promise," Natalie insisted. Jerry still looked uncertain, but gave a soft nod. "OK then. Another item of note: Tannen made two calls over a six month period last year to an address on the South Side that officially is an abandoned building," Ferris continued, pointing to the calls in question, "We checked Chicago police reports; that was a hideout spot for the man fingered by the informant my sister and her sort-of boyfriend questioned yesterday, Wilson Karkovice. Looking over his files in the Chicago P.D., he seems likely to have been the assailant of your father. Now you said he told the police the leader of the thugs who attacked him was a tall man with dark hair and bushy eyebrows?"

"Yeah?"

"You think this is him?" Ferris held up a photo of Karkovice they'd printed off the Chicago Police's Wanted page. Jerry squinted hard at it. "He certainly matches what Dad said the leader looked like," he nodded hesitantly.

"OK, then we at least have verifiable probable cause that Tannen at least communicated with the assault team," Ferris surmised, "Of course, the problem is proving Karkovice was on the other end of the line at the time these calls were made. Now my sister also found that it's likely Karkovice got payment from Tannen's brother, who runs the biggest downtown bank in Chicago. That makes sense; with millions of dollars changing hands there every day, hit money can be taken out or buried without anybody noticing, especially if no one's looking for it there."

"And, being a powerful politician, Tannen could easily bribe the SEC to look the other way any time," Cameron snorted across the limo, "So basically, we've got the essential outline of everyone involved in forcibly redeveloping the neighborhood," he told Jerry, "Now the problem is tying Tannen and his brother to Karkovice and Ronald Prince and anyone else who may have been peripherally involved, and prove they all worked together in a concerted effect to profit from forcing people out of their houses."

"And fortunately, we have a plan," Sloane grinned, "Because Cameron's going to have my father, as it were, call up Ronald Prince and set some chaos in motion later today."

"Huh?" Jerry frowned, "What's your father got to do with it?"

"Uh...you'll see. I, uh, can do his voice reasonably well," Cameron admitted softly.

"Oh, you're a voice actor?" Natalie asked him, intrigued, making Cameron shrink down in his seat in nervousness, "That's really impressive. I'd love to watch when you try it."

"Uh, maybe," Cameron mumbled, glancing desperately at Ferris to bail him out. Ferris merely shook his head softly at him with a smile of his own. He tapped the divider between the front and back seat. "You got all that, Jim?" he asked the assistant deputy director of media relations. The barrier rolled down. "Yeah, I listened in good," Jim stuck his head through the slot, "And while we were waiting for everyone to come out, I called Tannen's secretary and asked for his schedule, telling her we wanted to know so we could offer help to coordinate for when he officially announces he's running for president. He's in session till about six in the Capitol, then he'll be off to a big fundraising dinner with all the party bigwigs at nine. Then she says he'll be unavailable overnight; that could mean any number of things, so we'll keep an eye on that."

"Got it. Of course, then, we'll have to find out exactly what kind of cell phone he uses, then stop by a phone store and pick up an exact replica," Ferris nodded. "Natalie and I can get into his office phone and computer easy enough, but when we made a preliminary attempt his cell phone, it was too heavily encrypted," he told Jerry, "I can only guess he's too paranoid with it. So we decided the best option was to buy a lookalike cell phone, encode it to be tapped, and make a switch at some point, then set things in motion so he'll be calling his accomplices."

"Isn't that a bit risky?" Jerry looked uncertain.

"That's what I told them, but I was overruled," Cameron shook his head, "In short, there's a thousand and one ways this whole plan can go wrong..."

"But if we play our cards right, it can bring down a whole load of corrupt people," Ferris countered. "And I asked Jeannie to check out Bert Tannen's bank office and see if they can find anything there without getting caught. If they're successful, there's a chance we might have enough to bring their downfall into motion."

"Uh, yeah, that's one other thing; Tannen's making the formal announcement of his run for the White House tomorrow at noon in front of the Executive Mansion," Jim pointed out, "His secretary told me that much on the phone. After he makes that announcement, he's bound to have loads of people destroying everything even remotely incriminating; I've seen how this town works. So we do have to make it work now while there's still evidence to find."

"I know. Nothing like a ticking clock to work against," Ferris shook his head. "But, let's not worry about that now," he declared, "Because it's Natalie's birthday, and I promised her a great time in exchange for her help, starting with the great American pastime..."

* * *

"Again, you only have yourself to blame, Ed," Mr. Jacobson scolded Rooney, who was storming out of the taxi they'd hailed from the Washington landfill in front of the Air and Space Museum, "If you hadn't been so vehement in continuing your ridiculous crusade against Ferris..."

"I swear I saw him at the Lincoln Memorial yesterday when he was supposed to be back in his room with a burst appendix or whatever he said it was now," Rooney growled, "If he hadn't pulled trickery on me, I would have had him. This was a seven thousand dollar suit," he gestured in disgust at his garbage-covered apparel, "And it's coming out of his paycheck to clean it up. And if I don't see five hundred and thirty-seven students in this museum, not a single one of them will graduate, and Ferris will be banished permanently from school property...OH COME ON!" he roared in disgust at the sight of Mr. Steinberg standing sound asleep in the middle of the lobby, other guests walking by him without noticing. "Hmm, I didn't know Ben was that tired," Grace quipped behind the men, "He seemed to sleep well last night..."

"Shut it!" Rooney thrust a hand at her. He bustled to the front desk. "I'm the principal of Shermer High School; where did all the students who were with that man go?" he demanded to the cashier, jerking a finger at the snoring Mr. Steinberg.

"Oh, they all walked out the door and left in limousines," the cashier told him matter of factually, "It looks like Natalie Simmons of all people was taking them some place..."

"Simmons?" Rooney's eyebrows shot up, "And you never thought to wake him up and stop them!?" he gestured back at Mr. Steinberg.

"Well, they seemed safe with Secret Service vehicles following them, and besides, he's not really hurting anyone there," the cashier pointed at the sleeping teacher, "In fact, he looks kind of cute like that..."

Groaning, Rooney stomped up to Mr. Steinberg. "WAKE UP!" he screamed in the teacher's ear. Mr. Steinberg awoke with a snort. "So as I was saying, class," he jumped back into the end of his lecture, "Orville Wright made the first successful flight of, anyone know how long, anyone? Any...?"

He slowly glanced around, finally noticing all his students were gone. "Uh oh," he mumbled softly. He turned slowly to his boss. "They must have gotten bored and walked out. I hope you're not mad at me, Ed."

Rooney screamed in frustration. "Come on!" he grabbed Mr. Steinberg by the tie and dragged him towards the door, "We're going to search this whole city from top to bottom until we find every last one of them, and then I'm revoking every single one of their diplomas for...!"

"No you're not, Ed," Mr. Jacobson blocked the door on him, frowning, "This time you're going to let it go and let these kids enjoy this trip."

"Tom, you've got till five to get out of my way, or your son's not going to UCLA!" Rooney threatened him.

"I don't see how you can yank that scholarship, Ed, so I'm not budging for you on that," his underling folded his arms defiantly across his chest, "And really, so what if Ferris Bueller's actually doing the things you insist he is? The way you've treated him and half the kids in this school, maybe you deserve another good hard slap in the face from him. So here's what's going to happen: you go off on your mad crusade, and once you leave, I'll call Corey and see what's going on. But don't think I'm going to tell you a word about what he says. And as long as it is on the level, if you do anything to try and punish him or ruin his experience here, then you're going to have to answer to me as a father and not a teacher," he leaned right in Rooney's face, "And you're really not going to like it if I have to do that, Ed."

"I hate you!" Rooney snarled back at him, "The moment this trip is over, you're fired!"

"Like I told you back in Chicago, Ed, nobody on the school board supports you anymore. So any attempt to fire me is going to be overridden in a heartbeat. In the meantime, go right ahead, Ed," Mr. Jacobson stepped aside and gestured at the door, "Go on out there and try and hunt Ferris down. Go ahead and make a fool of yourself again. From now on, I'm not going to stop you-and I'm also not going to help you when it rebounds back in your face. Go on, Ed, go try and get him. Isn't that what you want?"

Glaring coldly, Rooney pushed past him and stomped towards the curb, where he hailed down another cab. "Are you sure we shouldn't stop him?" Mr. Steinberg frowned at their boss's departing backside.

"Nope, Ben, clearly he's got to find out for himself," Mr. Jacobson shook his head, "And personally, I hope when he comes back to the motel, he's in even worse shape than he was this morning." He dug out his cell phone, "Now, let's see what Corey says the actual story here is..."

* * *

"Ladies and gentlemen, at this time, we'd like to take this opportunity to honor a special guest at this game who is celebrating a very important day today," the Nationals Park public address announcer declared, "You've seen her on TV during her father's campaigns, and today she's turning eighteen. Would you all please stand up and join us in wishing a happy birthday to America's sweetheart, the Frist Daughter herself, Natalie Simmons!"

Ferris stood up and joined in the applause that rolled through the stadium-joined by a fife and drum band marching onto the field playing the Happy Birthday song, and punctuated by a squadron of jets flying overhead, trailing rainbow-colored exhausts. He nodded; everyone who he'd called the night before had come through-including, he saw, the caterers, who were pushing a massive seven-tiered birthday cake towards home plate. "As I always say, you can never go too far, especially when it comes to someone else's happiness," he looked backwards, as if discussing it with someone else, "And best of all," he pulled the familiar piece of paper out of his pocket, "It's all going on Mr. Rooney's credit card."

He pocketed the paper again and sat back down in his seat. To his right, Natalie was visibly touched by everything. "Thank you, Ferris," she reached over and squeezed his shoulder gratefully, "This is better than I could have ever imagined."

"Everyone should get to feel extra special on their birthday," Ferris told her with a smile. He loaned close to Sloane's ear and whispered, "Take as many photos of all this and everything we do later, then get her father's Facebook and Twitter account from Jim and send them there. Maybe this'll shame him into realizing how bad he screwed up missing out on this. While it may be too late for Cameron's dad-he squandered his last chance by pulling that gun on him over the Ferrari as far as I'm concerned-I think President Simmons may still have some hope of redemption in him if we hit the right notes on him."

"I hope so," Sloane agreed, raising her cell phone and clicking a picture of Natalie accepting a very large slice of cake from the caterers, who then passed more slices down the row. Ferris took one of his own, then checked to make sure Natalie's attention was distracted before pulling a wrapped gift out of his pocket and tapping Cameron on the back. "To her, from you," he whispered, handing him the package.

"Ferris, I can't. It's not right, and it'll never measure up...!" Cameron hissed back, trying to push it back.

"You'll never be good enough for any girl if you keep thinking you aren't good enough for any of them. Now go on, give it to her!" Ferris stressed, pushing it back to his friend.

"But I...!" Cameron tried to protest again, but it was at this moment Natalie saw the present. "Oh, is that for me too? Thank you, Cameron," she told him, taking it off him with a smile and opening it up. "Oh, it's beautiful!" she exclaimed, holding up a large moonstone ring. "Thank you so much, Cameron," she gave him a hug, "This was so sweet of you."

"Um...uh... um...uh..." Cameron mumbled, looking like he was ready to faint.

"Yeah, I'd say it was," Jim leaned over from the row behind them, giving Ferris a knowing wink. Ferris returned it, glad the downtown jewelry store he'd called had also come through. "I guess that means he really has feeling for you, Nat."

"I guess so," Natalie happily slipped the ring on and gave Cameron another hug, "I'll remember this always, Cameron."

"Uh...glad to know," Cameron whimpered, looking stunned that this was all happening to him. It was at that moment, though, that Ferris's attention was distracted by his cell phone making a police siren noise. "Everyone, shh, Tannen's using his office phone!" he alerted his co-conspirators, waving them close. He hit the speaker button and set the audio at an appropriate level. "Hello?" the senator's voice could be heard speaking on his end of the phone.

"Hey, Bob, it's Coakley," came the voice of Illinois's most powerful coal baron, "Want you to know, we did another scan; that new vein's even bigger than we thought. So I'm upping the offer to seven hundred fifty thousand."

"Really?" Tannen sounded amazed, "You're really desperate to turn a profit from this vein, Jimmy."

"With everyone switching to renewables, I've been losing money fast; this vein should stabilize my bank account if I get to mine it. Problem is, we've got half a dozen holdouts who won't sell, and the DEP guy's blocking my attempts to get a mining permit in the state park. I've taken your advice and called the people you said know how to take care of these things..."

"Just be careful about it, Jimmy," Tannen warned him, "I'm making my announcement for the presidency tomorrow; the last thing I need is any hint of a scandal to sink the campaign before it starts. Yeah, have them take care of it, but no cripples or dead bodies. Once I'm in the Oval Office, I'll make sure the Department of Environmental Protection never bothers you or anyone in your field again, and we can crow that we created loads of jobs in the process."

"Sounds good to me. So I guess that's a yes?" Coakley asked him.

"Tell you what, Jimmy; call my brother and appraise him of the situation," Tannen said evasively, as if paranoid that he was being recorded in the first place, "He'll know where to go from here. Can't talk much more right now; I was arguing a business deregulation bill on the floor, and had to cut out when I got the message you were on the line. They think I'm in the bathroom, so I'd better get back out there. Bye, Jimmy."

The line cut off. "Very interesting," Ferris mused, "He was carefully enough not to say anything too incriminating, but this does hint he's accepting bribes on top of everything else, and this does implicate Bert Tannen to some degree. We'll text Jeannie after the game and tell her and Garth to look extra deep when they stop by his office...yes, yes, go back, back, YEAH!" he cheered towards the field as the Cubs' shortstop blasted a home run over the centerfield fence. "World Series, here we come!" he declared, high fiving an equally delighted Cameron.

"Well, I'm a White Sox fan myself, so I wouldn't mind a city series, then," Jim piped up, nonetheless, giving the shortstop a polite applause as he crossed home plate.

"Dad always took me to Tigers games as a girl, so I'd be pulling for them," Natalie said, happily accepting the shortstop's bat when he trotted over to their seats, "But this easily tops any of their games I was at."

Ferris grinned and leaned back in his seat. So far, the day was going perfectly. Hopefully it would continue that way.

* * *

"And there we go," Mrs. Bueller said with great finality back in Chicago, signing her name to a set of documents in her realty office, "We can consider the Vermont deal officially complete. I hope you both enjoy your new home," she handed the paperwork back to the relieved couple across from her and shook their hands, "Have a nice day," she walked to the door and held it open for them, then bustled over to one of her co-workers in the corner. "All done, Joyce, finally," she told the woman, handing the documents to her, "I was so glad they decided to give us another chance after it fell apart earlier. Now I can put off wringing Jeannie's neck, at least for now."

"Great to know, Katie. You're not the best one here for nothing. Look at this," Joyce pointed at the TV screen in front of her, which showed a very happy Natalie in her seat at Nationals Park-with Ferris cut off out of frame to the right-"Someone's throwing the president's daughter a big party at the ball game. Boy, her father must really love her to do that."

"Or somebody does. You know, I wish Ferris could be enjoying that as well," Mrs. Bueller lamented as the camera cut back to the field, "But knowing the way that Mr. Rooney runs his school, he's probably got Ferris and the others running sprints around the National Mall's perimeter all week."

"Oh I know, the man's a nut job," Joyce agreed, "My daughter graduated two years ago; Rooney was all over her for no good reason after she missed three days with bronchitis. He has no patience for any of the kids there."

"Two months ago, he called me up insisting Ferris was skipping school on a day he was sick. He pushed that phony narrative even after I went back home to check and saw him in bed myself. The school would be better if...oh, hold that thought, Joyce," Mrs. Bueller turned towards her now ringing phone. She bustled back to her desk, just as the TV cut to a reporter starting to interview Ferris in the front row (also unseen by Joyce, who got up to use the bathroom). "Hello?" she said into the phone.

"Afternoon, honey," her husband greeted her on the other end, "How's the morning going?"

"I finally closed the Vermont deal, Tom, thank god," she breathed a deep sigh of relief, her back squarely to the TV and Ferris's image.

"Good. Now we don't have to shoot Jeannie after all," Mr. Bueller breathed his own sigh of relief, "I've had a tougher morning myself; Mr. Shirley went off the wall when we got the report that sales for the last quarter were way down. He didn't single me out, but my department might take a hit. So we've got to work around that. Anyway, you up for lunch?"

"Of course. Chez Quis?"

"Where else? See you there in fifteen minutes, Katie?"

"Sounds good to me if traffic holds. See you there, Tom," Mrs. Bueller hung up. "I'm heading out, Joyce," she told her colleague, turning back a split second after the TV cut away from Ferris, "If anyone calls for me, take it down for when I get back." She stared at the television set again. "Wherever you are in Washington, Ferris, I hope you're having as good an afternoon as these fans are," she wished her son well.

* * *

"So that's the game today, Ferris. An afternoon at the ball game," Rooney grinned in triumph in front of a downtown appliance store, where he'd caught a glimpse of Ferris's interview on the TVs displayed in the window, "Well, that wasn't on our itinerary today. So you have to pay the price for walking out on the actual field trip. Taxi," he flagged one down. "I have waited the last five years for a path out of this damn school, Ferris," he growled back at the TV screens, "And you are not bringing down Bob Tannen and taking that chance away from me if I have anything to say about it..."


	8. An Afternoon at the Zoo

"Didn't expect you'd get a trip to the National Zoo out of the day too, did you?" Ferris grinned at Natalie as she came to a stop in front of the panda display.

"Nope," she stared at the pandas chewing away on bamboo in the middle of their enclosure, "Truth be told, I've wanted to come here for a while, but having been stuck in the White House or doing official duties, I haven't gotten the chance to get here till now."

"Can't blame you for that choice," Cameron dared to slide alongside her, his eyes nonetheless locked in on the pandas, "Knowing some people in this world, I'd prefer to be among animals some times."

"I know," she agreed, turning to him, "Decided what you want to be after graduation, Cameron?"

"Not at all," he shook his head, "I'm not good at anything, and my interests are minimal. I was so used to being happy while I was sick that I guess I never branched out to anything."

"You'll find something," she assured him, turning back to the pandas. "Only about a thousand of them left," she mused sadly, "I hope there's time left in the world for our generation to make a difference for them and the rest of Earth's treasures."

"I guess every generation feels that way," Sloane mused, snapping the pandas' pictures, "Everyone has to pitch in to do their part, with wildlife or their communities or what have you."

"Just like we're trying to do on our mission. Speaking of which," Ferris checked his watch, "Jeannie and Garth should be at Bert Tannen's bank about now, so if the readers don't mind stepping away from the zoo for a little while, we can probably go to them."

"Huh?" Natalie frowned at him.

"Never mind, you wouldn't get it. Anyway..."

* * *

"...I'll make the call to get him out of his office; you'll probably have about five minutes to find anything. Just take pictures of whatever you do find and leave afterwards; we'll handle the rest on our end," he explained on Jeannie's phone as she and Garth rode the elevator to the top floor of the downtown high rise where Tannen's office was located, "And above all, be subtle. We're entering critical phases of this mission; any slip-ups could tip Senator Tannen off that we're on to him."

"Thanks for your vote of confidence, Ferris," Jeannie muttered sarcastically, "We'll try not to make ourselves look like fools. Unbelievable!" she ranted to Garth once her brother had hung up, "We're walking into a suicide mission, while he's carousing around the White House! Why'd I just know he'd milk this trip for all it was worth and then leave me twisting in the wind and set up to take another fall!? If he gets back to Chicago without being caught, I'll kill him myself!"

"Uh, not to complain, but like I said when we met, what does it matter what he does?" Garth inquired.

"Because it's just not fair! How come every single ball has to bounce his way, while I get set up for falls!? Because this mission can't possibly succeed! Tannen's brother's going to find us out in a flash, I'm getting arrested again, and this time Mom and Dad'll take away everything I have and give them to him, just like they gave him the car after he set me up on that day off of his! And besides..."

"Well let's be honest, sweetheart, you walked into that one by skipping yourself to prove he was doing it," Garth reminded her, "And for all the years I've known Ferris, there's one thing you have to keep in mind: trust the process."

"Lovely. You're quoting Sports Center, while Ferris gets to ride around in the presidential limousine and run up a massive bill on Mr. Rooney's plastic! And I know he's just going to double cross me out of everything he promised to...!"

"Hold that thought, here we are," Garth cut her off as the elevator slid open at the floor they wanted, "Remember be natural...and, like I said, trust the process." He approached the receptionist's desk. "Afternoon," he greeted her, "I'm Charlie Martin, and this is Jessica Johnson," he pointed to Jeannie, "We spoke earlier about interviewing Mr. Tannen for a school report..."

"Oh yes, I remember," the receptionist turned to him from her computer, "Well, you understand, kids, that Mr. Tannen has a very busy schedule..."

"Ah, kids, welcome," Bert Tannen in fact stuck his head out his office door, "Always glad to help the next generation. Come on in," he waved them into his office and gestured towards two seats set up across from his desk, "So, you said this was a school interview? What exactly about my job do you want to know?"

"Well, we'd like a long, in-depth portrayal of how banking goes, given it's something your average high school student wouldn't understand," Garth began, drawing a notepad and pencil, "Uh, let's start with the biographical information: I understand you come from humble beginnings?"

"Yeah, my family was dirt poor growing up on the West Side," Bert admitted, frowning at the unpleasant memories, "It was worse than you can imagine. No heat, no running water. My brother Bob and I swore we'd rise above that and be rich some day. I started off at an entry level banking position, and over a twenty year career worked myself up to the top of Olympus, the biggest banker in the city. And I'm sure you might have heard Bob's thinking about the presidency?"

"Yeah, we've heard," Jeannie said, taking a deep, nervous breath and slowly hitting the button on her cell phone inside her jacket pocket, "Um, Mr. Tannen, who exactly do you usually loan out to? I mean, obviously, you take on more than just average investors on the street..."

"That's a good question, young lady. You see, lots of businesses in the great metropolitan area need capital to start their projects. Lots of the buildings and roads and bridges you see being built have to start somewhere, as state and federal grants can only cover so much. That's where my business comes in. I lend them the money in return for a deposit in my bank," Bert explained.

"So, then, all the big hitters come to you? Like, perhaps, Prince Construction?" Garth inquired with a raised eyebrow, "After all, they are the biggest developers in the city."

"Funny you should mention Prince, because yeah, they invest heavily here," Bert took the bait, "In fact, Ronald Prince is a longtime friend of mine since high school, so he gets his money exclusively from here. You know that new office complex of his up in Glencoe? I financed that entirely, and offered the buyouts to the homeowners in the construction zone. My brother Bob had said that area was ripe for development; he helped spearhead the federal funds to complete the project, and for that I was glad to put his name on the office. And, if I could let you kids in on a secret, I'm currently working on a new project in conjunction with Prince Construction and my brother; we're going to build a brand new state of the art coal processing center and power plant, the biggest in the Midwest," he pulled some blueprints out of his desk and laid them on his desk, "Right now, we're in the preliminary process of trying to obtain property rights, and..."

"Excuse me, Mr. Tannen, there's a phone call from Washington, D.C., he says it's an important matter," the receptionist stuck her head in the door.

"He who?"

"He didn't give his name, but he said he knows your brother well."

"OK, I'll handle it. Be right back, kids," the other Tannen brother bustled out of the office, closing the door behind him. Garth rushed to the glass windows alongside the door and waited until Bert and the receptionist had turned the corner before jamming his chair against the knob. "Like I said, trust Ferris to come through," he repeated to Jeannie, rushing back to the desk, "All right, we've got five minutes, let's see exactly what he's planning here for that coal plant..."

"Looks like Prince Construction wants to level half the West Side for it," Jeannie frowned at the blueprints on the desk, "If they want to build as much as they seem to here, that means at least a thousand low income residents get shoved out..."

"And I'll bet Wilson Karkovice and his gang would make sure of it...take their picture," Garth gestured for her to photograph the blueprints, then turned to the computer, "Hmm, if I only knew his passwords..."

His eyes shot to a paperweight on the desk of Zeus standing atop Mount Olympus. "He said he always wanted to reach the top of Olympus...nah, it couldn't be that easy..." he mused, typing OLYMPUS into the password bar. But sure enough, a new screen popped up. "Then again, in the real world, bad guys are dumber than they're made out to be in the movies," he rationalized. "Here, write down his URL," he shoved the notepad and pencil into Jeannie's hands, "Then Ferris will know what to hack into later on if he needs to."

"So what exactly are we looking for?" Jeannie frowned at the screen, "Does he have anything in the Files section?" she grabbed the mouse and hesitantly clicked on it, "No, he wouldn't be that dumb to leave anything like that in plain sight..."

"Wait a minute, what's that one?" Garth pointed at a file labeled LETTER_REWRITE, "Click on that and see what we've got."

Jeannie did so, prompting a draft of a letter to pop up. Her eyes widened at the sight of its text. "Dear Mr. Karkovice, I appreciate your efforts in moving the citizens out of the Glencoe area. Your actions have helped make the city of Chicago great again. Enclosed you'll find the payment specified. Sincerely, Matthew Simmons." she breathlessly read it out loud. "The president!? What exactly did Ferris stumble on to here!?" she turned to her sort-of boyfriend in shock.

"I think I know," Garth muttered, stunned himself, "Since Bob Tannen and the president are both in the same party, Simmons needs to go down for Tannen to have a better shot at the nomination. If he shifts his own misdeeds onto Simmons, he'll have that chance. And Matthew Simmons' law firm has an outlet in the Chicago area; remember he dropped by there a lot when campaigning in Chicago before his election? Tannen's obviously trying to draw up phony evidence looking like the president gave the order to Wilson Karkovice to beat up Jerry's dad and probably other people in that neighborhood. Simmons and Karkovice both go down if this forgery ever goes public, thus silencing the man who carried out the attack on the property owners and clearing Tannen's path to..."

His expression grew panicked. "Hold that thought, they're coming back. Emergency maneuvers!" he abruptly starting kissing Jeannie hard, the momentum bringing them both down onto Bert Tannen's desk. "Hey, what are you kids doing in there!?" the banker shouted outside the office, pounding on the door. Without looking up, Garth placed his foot on the mouse and maneuvered it over to the Close button, hitting it to eliminate the critical window from view just as Bert finally burst through the door. "Up from there, you two!" he barked at them, "This is an office, not a love nest!"

"Oh, uh, sorry, Mr. Tannen, you took a little longer than we expected," Garth explained quickly, rising to his feet, "Actually, we've, uh, got to go now, um, last bit of homework to finish, but you've been really helpful, Mr. Tannen. We'll let you know if we need anything else going forward."

"All right, but if you do come back, please control yourselves in a more professional manner!" Bert admonished them.

"We will. Have a good day," Jeannie told him. Once she and Garth were in the elevator again, she whacked him hard on the shoulder. "Was that really necessary!?" she upbraided him.

"Hey, it was either that or him catching us red-handed, and after everything you said on the way up, I don't think you'd want the latter," Garth countered, wiping his brow, "In the meantime, call Ferris back once we're down on the street; he's got to know everything they're cooking up here."

* * *

"They're WHAT!?" a stunned Natalie listened in to Ferris's phone with the others by the lion exhibit at the zoo, "But Dad would never have ordered anything like that!"

"We know that, but you know how the press works; one hint of scandal is all it takes to bring anyone down," Jeannie snorted on the other end, "So if Ferris can't come up with another brilliant plan to neutralize them, it'll be easy to start a frenzy that you father ordered the hit, and Bob Tannen's lackeys probably then create enough new doctored evidence to push the fake scandal further until he goes down, and Tannen gets the presidential nomination."

"I'll come up with something, trust me on that," Ferris said firmly, "Thank you, Jeannie, this was a big help."

"Yeah right," she wasn't convinced, "You were laughing the whole time knowing you were safe if I went down, and don't try to deny it, Ferris; you've always taken pleasure in seeing me twist in the wind."

"Well nothing happened, did it? I'm serious, Jeannie, I am thankful..."

"Sure you are," she grumbled, "Call if you need anything else."

She hung up. Ferris pocketed the cell phone. "I really am grateful for everything she's done for us, honestly," he told the rest of his team, "Well, since we now have a firm link between Bert Tannen and Ronald Prince, I think it's time to speed things up given what we know and get our targets to goof up and turn on each other while revealing incriminating information. So Cameron," he turned to his friend, "I think it's time for Mr. Petersen to ride again."

"Only it can't be Mr. Petersen, Ferris; I don't want to get Sloane's dad in any trouble," Cameron pointed out.

"I appreciate it, Cameron, but then come up with another name; it doesn't have to be a real person," Sloane pointed out.

"OK, I'll try," Cameron took a deep breath, "President Simmons may be a flawed man, but he's also an innocent man in this case, and innocent men shouldn't suffer."

"That's the spirit, Cameron," Ferris commended him, "After all, this is our country," he stared into the lions' cage, specifically looking at one lion standing regally on a large rock like a king, "If we don't fight for it, who will-bet you know that was coming, right, folks?" he turned sideways and winked.

"I'm sure they did," Jim approached with a large soft drink in hand. "Have you...you're the first one who got that when I..." Ferris was surprised for once.

"Oh, I have experience with that too, believe me. Hakuna matata, your highness," Jim waved to the lion on the rock. "Anyway," he turned to the teens, "I was able to get us permission to come to the fundraiser Tannen's going to be at tonight. Told them it would be educational for Ferris's class to see how government works when it's not in session. Now we just have to figure out a way to switch Tannen's regular phone with the tapped cell phone..."

"And I've got an idea, Jim, so hold that thought. Rachel," Ferris noticed the president of the Shermer High Drama Club admiring the tigers a few cages down and rushed up to her, "Just the person I wanted to see. I've got a proposition for you."

"Like what, Ferris?" Rachel asked him, confused.

"I've been invited to a big congressional fundraiser tonight thanks to Natalie's generosity," Ferris gestured back at her, "We figured we ought to do something to show off what we do at Shermer High, and I figured, how about we and the rest of the Drama Club give all the representatives and senators a taste of what we put on stage for Hairspray that brought us standing ovations earlier in the spring?"

"One more performance?" Rachel was intrigued.

"Yep, one more chance for Tracy and Linc to dance and sing up a storm," Ferris gestured between the two of them, "How about it?"

"Well, I'll ask around, but that sounds great. To perform in front of senators...maybe this'll get me a last minute theater scholarship," impressed, Rachel rushed off. Nodding, Ferris returned to his friends. "Plan set," he told them with a firm nod, "We have the chance now to set up a big distraction, one that might also put a bunch of other corrupt or lousy senators in their places, and in the confusion, we switch the cell phones on him. Now all we need is to sow some chaos so he'll be listening to his cronies on the phone, so, Cameron, you've got Ronald Prince's number, take it away," he told his best friend.

"Right, OK," Cameron took a deep breath and dialed the number in question. "Hello, Ronald Prince, please," he said into the phone in his Mr. Petersen voice, "Tell him this is important, and he'd better come on the line right away unless he wants to be prosecuted for...Glencoe. Hello, Ronald?" he declared after a moment's pause, "I'm Lieutenant George...Morris, Chicago P.D. Undercover," he barked, inserting his father's name for Sloane's father's, "I haven't got all day, so I'll make this short and sweet: I know what went on in Glencoe. Yes, you heard me, Glencoe; I know you wanted everyone out of that neighborhood so you could build your company headquarters there. Oh I have my sources, Ronnie; don't think I haven't been watching all this time. I know Bob Tannen wanted that neighborhood redeveloped too...how? I'll tell you exactly how...how, Ferris!?" he covered the phone and begged his friend in a normal voice.

"You've been talking with Bert..." Ferris hissed at him.

"Oh, yeah. As I was saying, Ronnie," Cameron returned to the Mr. Petersen persona, "Bert Tannen's been talking with me. Confidentially, yes he has; he wants out, and he fingered you as having offered him and his brother bribes to help push the people out. And I know you've been using Wilson Karkovice as your muscle too...you know exactly who; I've spoken with..." he turned to Jerry, who mouthed, _"Simon,"_ at him, "...spoken with Simon Greenfield, who positively identified Karkovice as his attacker...I figured you'd say you didn't know him. But he said Karkovice let it drop he was getting a fortune from you for it."

"Great job," an impressed Natalie gave him a thumbs-up. Cameron managed a smile at her. "Cork your trap and listen to me good, Ronnie!" he barked loudly, perhaps trying to impress her further, "I could drag you in to the chief right now for all of this, but I'm prepared to cut you a deal. Because, having seen the action going on, I want a piece of it...yes, you know how hard it is to support seven kids and ten pets on a lieutenant's salary? Never mind all that. I'll let you walk, Ronnie, if you give me Bert Tannen...since he's a bigger fish, you'll take his place, that's why. If you send me all the information to the following e-mail address, I'll grant you immunity, and we'll testify against him in court, shall we? Then we both reap the rewards. Very good. The address is on Outlook at..."

"Are you enjoying yourself, Ferris?" came the icily cold last voice Ferris wanted to hear at the moment right behind him. A hand roughly came down on his shoulder and spun him around. "Hello Ferris," Rooney leered right in his face, "Don't you know how wrong it is to walk out on a field trip...?"

"OH MY GOD!" Cameron gasped in horror, seeing the principal right in front of him. He quickly recollected himself and snapped into the phone as Mr. Petersen, "That was nothing, that was just...my pet parrot being a blabbermouth. Uh, we'll get together for lunch next week and work out the details, bye!"

"Very impressive, Frye," Rooney clapped contemptuously, "But all for nothing. Senator Tannen will stay in office, with me as his new campaign manager, and you will join Ferris in not graduating this year. Let's go Ferris," he started to drag him off, "You're hereby remanded to your motel room for the remainder of this trip, after which..."

"Let go of him!" Natalie stepped straight into Rooney's path, her hands furiously on her hips, "Ferris hasn't done anything wrong-in fact, he's helped give me the best day of my life so far! As daughter of the president of the United States, I'm officially pardoning him for any crimes he may have actually committed."

"Oh, really?" Rooney all but laughed, "Well, Miss Simmons, let me tell you something I'm sure your father's heard a lot when he's been around the country: local leaders such as me don't appreciate the federal government interfering in what isn't its business!" he shouted angrily in her face, "And whatever I do to Ferris is no business of yours. Now get out of my way, or else!"

"No. Americans stand against tyranny, and you're a tyrant. Now let go of him!" Natalie tried to pull Ferris out of Rooney's grasp. Growling, Rooney abruptly shoved her hard, sending her stumbling towards the nearest bench-but immediately regretted it, as the two Secret Service agents standing guard nearby lunged at him and pinned him to the ground. "Scatter!" Ferris shouted to his friends, who took off like shots. He himself bent down and snatched Rooney's cell phone out of his pocket. "Ferris you thief, give that back!" the principal yelled murderously at him.

"Sorry Mr. Rooney, if you want it, you'll have to get it," Ferris took off running himself. "Think. think...ah!" he said, noticing the small mammal house right in front of him. "That might do it..."

A loud roar made him look back in time to see Rooney, who was being dragged to his feet, kick the Secret Service agents in the balls, making them release him, then shoved Jim to the ground when the assistant deputy director of media relations tried to block him. "I'LL GET YOU, FERRIS!" he yelled, charging straight at him. Taking a deep breath, Ferris ran towards the back of the small mammal house, bashed the lock off it, and ran inside. "Where was it...ah, here," he noticed the door to one of the displays, and started to thrust it open. "Hold it right there!" Rooney appeared in the doorway, furious, "Give me my phone, Ferris!"

"Just one problem with that, Mr. Rooney: how do I know you don't call Bob Tannen immediately?" Ferris posed, holding the cell phone partially into the open door, "If he offered you a position with his presidential team like you said, then it stands to reason he may have let you in on any dirty secrets he may have-which means you stand as much chance of going down should anything become public. So how about a deal: I leave you out of it, and you let Cameron graduate. Do whatever you want with me, but he earned that diploma."

"Not anymore he hasn't, and I don't deal with terrorists," Rooney advanced murderously towards him, "Now I said give me that phone, Ferris...!"

"I can't do that, Mr. Rooney. Senator Tannen's profited off the backs of innocent people, and he needs to go down. And you know that, too, don't you?" Ferris raised an eyebrow at him, "Do you really put your own well-being over that of poor people who stand to lose everything?"

"Whatever gets me out of Shermer High and away from all those rotten kids you've corrupted, Ferris! You are not taking away my golden ticket out of there! Now this is your last warning: give me that phone, or you spend the rest of your life in jail for terrorist threats and extortion!" Rooney screamed at him, thrusting his hand right in Ferris's face.

"Well, I guess that only leaves me one thing to say: if you want it, go get it," Ferris tossed the phone into the exhibit. Growling, Rooney held him against the wall and reached through the door. "For that, Ferris, I'm taking you straight to the D.C. prison!" he shouted, "And Tannen'll know exactly what you've been planning once I...where is that damn phone...ah, here we..."

He grabbed hold of something and pulled it out the door...and once more immediately regretted it, as he'd pulled out a skunk by mistake-and it immediately sprayed right into his face. Howling, Rooney dropped it and stumbled backwards, blinded. Ferris picked the skunk up and placed it back in its enclosure, then grabbed the cell phone out. "Catch me if you can, Mr. Rooney," he called to the principal, rushing back out the door.

"GET BACK HERE, FERRIS!" wiping at his eyes, Rooney stumbled after him. Ferris ran to the next exhibit over, smashed the lock on the back, and put his hands on the doorknob. "Whoops," he declared, pretending to trip and fall forward to the floor, then rolling behind the door. The still partially blinded Rooney charged for the door and leaped for the large figure sitting on the floor in front of him. "Get up!" he roared, grabbing the figure by the arm and hauling it up, then slapping it hard when it growled in protest, "I'm tired of fooling around with you Ferris, and this is the last...Ferris? You didn't have a hairy arm before..."

He wiped at his eyes again, restoring his vision fully...and found himself face to face with a very angry-looking gorilla. "Oh no...!" he whimpered in horror, seconds before the enraged gorilla hauled him up over his head and roared angrily at the top of its lungs right in the principal's face. Screaming in terror, Rooney broke away and started running out of the enclosure, the gorilla hot on his heels, still roaring and quickly gaining ground. Ferris quickly started walking away. "Yeah, I know, this might make me seem wrong to do this to him," he said over his shoulder, "But at least he has a sporting chance as long as he can outrun it. And as you can see, even if it does catch up with him, whatever it does after that won't last too long," he pointed at zookeepers running after the gorilla with nets, "I don't like Mr. Rooney, that's for sure, but I'd never want to see any actual serious harm come to the man-at least none that isn't self-inflicted. And for shoving Natalie, you can probably make the argument he at least partially deserves whatever happens here. In the meantime, might as well dispose of this so there's no way he can call Senator Tannen in the near term...and, again, as luck would have it..." he'd reached the elephants' exhibit, and one of them was walking in a circle inside. Ferris wound up and pitched the cell phone to the ground in front of it, where the elephant quickly stepped on it, crushing it beyond repair. "One more problem solved," he declared, "Well, there's not much more for us to do here, folks, so how about we go on to the next chapter...?"


	9. When Things Don't Go as Planned

AUTHOR'S NOTE: All lyrics are trademarked by their respective copyright holders.

* * *

"I'll give you a break, Bert, because I want in on the action. Send everything you've got on Ronald Prince to my e-mail address that I just gave you, and I'll get immunity for you when Prince goes down," Cameron barked to Bert Tannen with his Mr. Petersen voice inside the White House's solarium, "You and your brother get away with it, and I'll help you find someone more trustworthy to work the scheme with. I'll keep in touch. You just think this over and remember not to double cross Lieutenant Richard Vernon. Goodbye, Bert."

He hung up. "If Mr. Vernon ever finds out I used his name as an alias this time, Ferris...!" he protested to his friend, who was hunched over Natalie's laptop on the floor.

"Well you couldn't use George Morris again, Cameron; he'd get suspicious when he presumably calls up Prince to yell at him for betraying him," Ferris pointed out, "And since Mr. Vernon's had no contact with the school since he was fired, there's no way he'd ever find out. In the meantime, Prince took the bait; he's sending us some early Christmas presents," he gestured proudly at the laptop's screen.

"What do we have...bank account files," Cameron's eyes widened at the files popping up on the screen, "That must be Bert Tannen's slush fund to Karkovice and the hit team."

"And where Prince probably deposits his bribe money for Senator Tannen to get the job done," Sloane mused, "And what else...ah, a fifty thousand dollar check in Prince's name to Wilson Karkovice," she took in the next item popping up on the screen, "Apparently the operation's muscle wanted a raise. Can you crack these files?" she asked Natalie.

"Well, to be honest, Sloane, I'd prefer not to break into bank files, just in case it's a trick and it's a regular person's money," Natalie admitted, "But," she started typing on the keys, "I can forward all this to the FBI director with a request to look into it."

"But do we have anything that nails Bob Tannen himself!?" Jerry asked impatiently from the sofa, "I want him to go down...!"

"Patience, buddy, patience. Nothing yet directly tying Bob to Prince, but if we just wait a little longer, we'll probably get the smoking gun," Ferris urged him.

"I can't wait any longer, Ferris; I've waited a year and a half wanting payback, I can't wait much longer!" Jerry argued, rage crossing his face, "I want to see him go down!"

"I'm sorry, but we're not there yet, Jerry," Sloane stressed firmly, "If we put out what we have now, his accomplices go down, but he probably skips by claiming he knew nothing of it. Ferris is right; you have to be patient a little longer...were you able to get President Simmons?" she asked Jim as he came into the solarium.

"Tried, but the attendant says he's too busy in a high-level meeting with the King of Bahrain," Jim shook his head grimly, "I stressed this was a matter of life or death, that the president's good name was at stake, but I was told the prez would handle it later after the meeting ended. I did leave a message asking him to call me personally; I just hope I register high enough on the prez's radar to warrant a personal call."

"Probably not," Natalie sighed grimly and buried her head on her knees, "I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I wished he'd never decided to leave the governorship!"

"I know, and I'm sorry," Cameron dared to put an arm around her, "It hurts when it seems your father doesn't care. I know exactly what you're feeling."

"Thanks, Cameron, I appreciate it," she gave him a warm smile. "Say, while we still have some time before we go to the fundraiser," she rose up and took his hand, "Come with me, I want to share something with you."

"What? What is...what's this for?" Cameron frowned at the helmet, harness, and gloves she pressed into his hands at the doorway. Natalie slid the solarium's door open and beckoned him around the promenade. Grinning, Ferris waved for Sloane to follow. "Zip lining!?" Cameron exclaimed worriedly outside, and indeed, Ferris, upon stepping onto the promenade, only then noticed the thick wire running from the top of the White House to a copse of trees across the North Lawn.

"This is the one thing I always liked stepping away from my computer to do," Natalie had now donned a helmet and gloves of her own and was checking the hooks and straps on her own harness, "So I made sure the staff here built me a line and aerial climbing area after we moved in. This is how I got out the other night, in fact; I zipped over here, then moved from tree to tree until I was near the fence, then dropped down and ran to the car I'd parked outside."

"I see, uh, well, Natalie, I'm not good with thrill rides, I should say..."

"Well if you don't try it, there's no way you'll ever overcome those fears. Come on, just do what I do," Natalie hooked onto the line and cast off, sailing down the line with a loud shout of delight and disappearing into the trees. "OK, now it's your turn," she called back. With a deep nervous gulp, Cameron hooked onto the line, casting a pleading glance at Ferris and Sloane to bail him out. Both, however gave him a thumbs-up. Slamming his eyes shut, Cameron pushed off and slid at a snail's speed down the wire. Nonetheless, he made it safely to the other side. "See, Cam," nothing to worry about," Ferris called over encouragingly.

"Should we follow them on it?" Sloane looked around for any other harnesses on the promenade.

"Nah, let the two of them have their moment together. We can try it out later. We can go listen in on them, though," Ferris glanced around the White House grounds. In the sparkling light of the setting sun, the other Shermer High seniors were everywhere on the grounds, diving into the swimming pool, playing on the tennis courts, nailing golf balls on the putting green, and otherwise enjoying themselves. And Ferris couldn't help feeling a distinct sense of pride to have been able to open such a door to his classmates.

With a nod, both he and Sloane turned and bustled back inside the mansion. Five minutes later, they were walking across the lawn towards the tree Natalie and Cameron had disappeared into. "...all my life, I've been so scared of everything," Cameron was admitting above them, "Looking back now, I can't help thinking, what the hell was wrong with me? I feel like...like I wasted so much wanting to be sick all the time. When Ferris took me on that day off a few months ago, he made me see the world so much differently. I feel terrible we're going to have to split up now; I can see he's the best friend I could have asked for. He gave me the strength to stand up for myself in regards to that blasted Ferrari, made me see how much I've got to look forward to if I just tried to live."

"And I'm glad to have helped, buddy," Ferris whispered, beaming with pride. He and Sloane came to a stop under the tree and stared up at the other two teens' legs dangling down from the branch above. "Before that trip, there's no way I'd have been up here in the world," Cameron continued, "No way I'd've dared to try that zip line. But you were right, it wasn't bad at all. And it's not scary up here at all."

"I think you're a very brave man, Cameron Frye," Natalie told him warmly, "And I know how you feel with that too; looking back, I can't help thinking I spent all those years trying to be a computer ace, staying in my room all the time and not going out. It wasn't until Dad was elected president that I realized what I was missing, and now I feel like a prisoner who won't be able to enjoy anything until I'm a grown woman. That's why I felt I needed that night on the town; unfortunately, as you saw, I messed it up big time."

She sighed softly. "I just want to go back to the way it used to be," she lamented, "But they say you can't go back, you can only go forward. Only I don't know the way forward."

"Again, I don't either," Cameron muttered, "I guess something will come up. I hope I end up liking it."

It was his turn to sigh. There was silence on the branch before Natalie spoke up again. "Please tell me what you're thinking, Cameron?" she asked him.

"What am I thinking? I'm thinking of how I'm sitting here in the middle of the White House grounds with a girl I'll confess I've thought was the loveliest I'd ever seen the first time I saw her on TV, and wondering when I'm going to wake up back home in Shermer in a museum of a house playing second fiddle to a car again. Because this just can't be real," Cameron admitted.

"Why do you think you're not good enough for me, Cameron?"

"Just to cite the obvious one, you're you, and I'm me, a hopeless coward who lets everything get to him and doesn't know what his future is. You deserve somebody a lot better than me," Cameron lamented.

"I know it might seem like that to you. But Cameron, you're the most genuine person my age I've known in Washington since we moved here," Natalie assured him, leaning towards him in the twilight above Ferris and turning Cameron's face towards herself, "Everyone here puffs themselves up and pretends to be someone they're not; you're a real person, and I like that."

"Well, Natalie, I'm not the person you want me to be; I can never be that person..."

"I think it's more you're not the person YOU think you should be. But Cameron, I like you just the way you are. And there's the matter you did save my life."

"Ferris and Sloane saved you too..."

"But you got me out of the river. How can I not be eternally grateful for that? Look at me, Cameron; don't you want me?"

"Want you? More than anything in the world, Natalie...but I'm still below you..."

A brief kiss permeated the night air, bringing a smile to Ferris's face. "However, I can be goaded to aim higher in my dreams," Cameron said, his voice stunned.

"I'd hope you would. No matter what happens from here on, Cameron, I'll always remember you," Natalie told him affectionately. Next to Ferris, Sloane sniffed happily. "It's so great he finally got his moment," she confessed to her boyfriend.

"Yeah, he earned it," Ferris agreed, "Of course, I lucked out and found the girl I want to marry a long time ago," he pulled Sloane into a kiss himself, "And rest assured I'll never let her go."

"I love it when you talk that way," she teased him warmly, "Should we climb up a tree and get intimate like them?"

"Show time, you love birds," Jim had arrived on the scene behind them, "It's about a fifteen minute drive to the hotel they're having the fundraiser in, so we'd better get going now if we want to get there when Tannen does."

"You've got the hacked phone?" Ferris asked him. Jim pulled one out. "OK, keep it in a safe place. Go tell everyone I told you was in Drama Club, and everyone else among the seniors who volunteered to come along that we're heading out."

"Will do," Jim bustled off. "Were you two down here the whole time?" Cameron protested as he and Natalie climbed down to the ground.

"Oh, long enough to see two special people starting to feel something for each other," Ferris told him with a grin, making Cameron blush in embarrassment, "OK, now, we've got to make things wild enough once the music starts to leave Tannen disoriented," he pulled everyone close, "Since Jerry should have the honor of making the switch, we'll give him the hacked phone and try and maneuver Tannen towards him in the confusion. But we've got to be careful to make sure they don't come face to face; since Jerry's confronted him before, Tannen will know something's up if he sees him again..."

"Are we planning some extracurricular activities, Ferris?" came a firm and unexpected voice from the fence to his left. Ferris froze up, stunned. "Mr. Jacobson," he turned quickly to see the teacher leaning against the fence with a frown, "I, uh, it's not what it sounds like...how'd you...?"

"Simplest way of all: called Corey and asked where he was. And he mentioned you'd set it up. You've really got a nice game running here, don't you Ferris? Faking a burst appendix, and then getting Mr. Steinberg to put himself to sleep with one of his too-long lectures so the class could break the schedule of this trip," Mr. Jacobson said, his frown deepening, "I actually figured it out reasonably quick, Ferris; it was much too obvious to connect the dots from Senator Tannen's speech back at school to us coming here and you breaking away from the trip all the time. Not all of us teachers are as dim as you think. And let me guess that you weren't really sick on those other days you missed school this semester too, am I right?"

"I, um, uh..." Ferris stammered, going white.

"What you seem to be planning against Senator Tannen's almost certainly illegal," the teacher told him sternly, "There's really no reason I shouldn't call Mr. Rooney or any of the other teachers right now and turn you and everyone else here in," he gestured at an equally white Sloane and Cameron.

"But...but if you figured it out earlier, you had ample opportunity to tell Mr. Rooney all week and didn't," Ferris realized, regaining some of his composure, "Why not?"

"It's the strangest thing; I've always been a stickler for protocol as a teacher, but...I can remember back when I was seventeen. I had straight As and was on the dean's list, but I was starting to feel cramped and suffocated by school," Mr. Jacobson reminisced, leaning against the fence, "I realized I needed a day off. So I took five in a row off; I called all my best friends, and we took a secret road trip up to Wisconsin, telling our families we were sleeping over each other's houses. Somehow, we managed to get away with it, and we all had the best week we could have imagined...I really needed that week. I guess everyone needs a day or two off when they're younger once in a while. Sometimes I wish I could still do the same today," he sighed wistfully.

"So you understand, then? Stopping and looking around at life once in a while makes us all wiser and better?" Ferris asked him, a smile starting to return to his lips.

"I may be a teacher, the establishment figure, but truthfully, I was you once, Ferris," a smile crossed Mr. Jacobson's lips as well, "And to be honest, I've always had a feeling something was off with Senator Tannen. So here's the deal: don't get anyone killed, and I never saw you here. Deal?"

"Deal," Ferris reached through the bars and shook his hand, "You know, I always thought you were the best teacher Shermer High ever had, Mr. Jacobson..."

"I can tell when people flatter me, Ferris. But I still appreciate it," the teacher smiled again, "Before you head out, tell the Secret Service men at the front gate who I am; I want to come share the experience here with Corey as his father."

"Consider it done, Mr. Jacobson. And thanks again."

* * *

"Good evening, Mr. Bueller. Your mission, whether you choose to accept it or not, is to plant this decoy cell phone on Senator Tannen and wait for him to use it, then save anything incriminating he says and call the FBI. As usual, should any members of your Bueller Associated team be killed or captured, the Secretary will disavow any knowledge of your actions. This tape will self-destruct in five seconds," Ferris rambled out loud, watching the front of the hotel the fundraiser would be in from inside the presidential limousine.

"You can count on me, Chief, I'm always on duty," Jim chimed in from the limo's front seat in a spot-on Inspector Gadget impression, then made the sound of a simulated explosion. "Very good, nice and inconspicuous," Cameron muttered from the back seat.

"Hold the phone, all of you, here he comes...with his secretary," Natalie frowned out the window at Tannen approaching the hotel with a very lovely woman in his arms, "I didn't know she could afford that luxurious a gown...oh dear Lord," she groaned in disgust as Tannen kissed his secretary passionately on the lips, "Really, Tannen, that on top of everything else...!?"

"That dirty coward!" Sloane was indignant herself, "His wife's seven months pregnant with their third child! No wonder she was living back in Chicago; he wanted the family far away while he cheated on her!"

"Well, that's another ace we can play if nothing else," Ferris whispered to her, gesturing her to film Tannen's adulterous kiss on her cell phone, but the couple had broken it off before she could start taping and was entering the building together, "He certainly can't run for president with a major adultery scandal hanging around his neck. OK, you all know what to do?"

"Yep," everyone nodded in unison. "Jim, phone," Ferris asked the assistant deputy director of media relations, who handed it to him. "All yours, Jerry," he handed it to his friend, "But like I said, be careful how you make the switch; Tannen'll know something's up if he sees you face to face. And please don't let your emotions get the better of you; this situation calls for logic, not emotion."

"Can't promise anything, Mr. Spock," Jerry said softly, pocketing the camera, "All right, let's do this."

* * *

"Much as we all wanted to hope for the best, ladies and gentlemen, a little over halfway through the Matthew Simmons administration, it's clear things aren't working," Tannen announced to his fellow congresspersons and the wealthy donors inside the hotel ballroom, "Tomorrow I'll be making my official announcement, but I want you all to know now that I wish to seek our nation's highest office. I think all my years as chairman of numerous Senate committees has given me more than enough experience for the job, and if elected, I can bring this country to a period of greatness both economically and socially that it's never reached before. Now I know many of you supported Matthew Simmons during his run the last election cycle. Look at the poll numbers; a generic challenger from the other party beats him in every reputable poll. I can almost certainly do better than that. Besides, I've heard certain rumors that a storm's going to break concerning secret and illegal actions Simmons might have committed..."

"This weatherman says that storm's chances aren't a hundred percent," Ferris mumbled from behind the door to the ballroom, "Everyone ready?" he asked the members of the Drama Club, who nodded, eager to give one last performance. He sided up to Cameron, "Your job's to get Tannen over to Jerry, but be as natural as you can, and don't let Tannen see him if you can," he whispered in his best friend's ear.

"Why are we even risking having Jerry do it at all?" Cameron had to know.

"I know it's a risk, but he deserves the honor," Ferris turned to Jerry, listening in nearby, and flashed him a thumbs-up. "Just do your part well, and I think we'll be OK. Nervous?" he asked Cameron.

"Of course...but also glad. I thought about joining Hairspray, but decided I'd lose my nerve up on stage and embarrass myself. I've regretted it since then," Cameron admitted glumly, "Sitting there in the audience, watching you and everyone else dance and sing your way into the audience's hearts, it made me feel insignificant. I wanted another chance, and now it looks like I'm going to get it."

"Good for you, Cameron; you're finally learning to take chances and live," Ferris told him with a smile, patting him on the back. He turned at the sound of applause inside the ballroom. "Looks like this is it."

"There's a thousand and one ways this could go wrong, Ferris..." Cameron offered one final warning. Ferris paid no heed, listening to the party chairman announcing, "And now, ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to introduce a special guest who has brought along a special group of young people who wish to share their special talents with us. Give a big hand to the girl America's come to love, Natalie Simmons." A warmer applause greeted Natalie as she walked into the ballroom, unable to suppress glares at all the legislators and donors who seemed quite eager to dump her father for Tannen, at least to the senator's face. "Honored senators, as Mr. Brickford just noted, it is my distinct honor to introduce a group of kids on a trip to the capital who have prepared this sampling from their Drama Club production from this past year. Sit back and enjoy the sights and sounds of the pride of Chicagoland, the Shermer High Drama Club, to present the following selection from Hairspray."

"Here we go..." Ferris mumbled under his breath. Much as he hated to admit it, Cameron had a point that there were a number of ways his plan could go wrong. Nonetheless, he put on a smile as the music kicked in from the hired band and Rachel strutted into the center of the ballroom and belted out the beginning of the signature song: "You can't stop an avalanche as it races down the hill. You can try to stop the seasons, girl, but you know you never will. And you can try to stop my dancing feet, but I just cannot sit still..."

"Five...four...three...two...one...Linc's on!" Ferris slid dramatically across the floor, reaching Rachel's side right as she finished the first verse. "Ever since this whole world began, a woman found that if she shook it, she could shake up a man..." he started belting out in perfect synchronization with her, also matching her move for move across the floor, just as he had during the actual play a few months ago, "...and so I'm going to shake and shimmy it the best that I can today, because you can't stop the motion of the ocean or the sun in the sky, you can wonder if you want to, but I never ask why, and if you try and hold me down I'm gonna spit in your eye and say: you can't stop the beat!"

Continuing his dancing moves the drama instructor had taught the Drama Club over the winter while the next verse kicked in, he glanced around the ballroom for Tannen's location. The senator was on the dais, on the third seat to the right of the speaker's podium, only half-heartedly watching the performance on the floor, now joined by other Drama Club members-including Sloane, filling in for a junior not making the senior trip. _"Wait till the floor's flooded with people before having them attempt the switch..."_ he reminded himself mentally, knowing confusion was his best bet to effectively switch the cell phones. As the refrain returned, he backflipped dramatically onto one of the tables, hefted Rachel up with him, and spun her over his head, to applause from the wealthy businessmen sitting below him. Hitting the finishing move for this particular refrain, he leaned backwards with Rachel in his arms, glanced to the door, and pointed at Tannen's location for Cameron, who nodded and swaggered into the ballroom. "You can't stop my happiness, because I like the way I am," he sang with complete conviction, his words seeming to Ferris like a long-overdue declaration of more independence for his friend, "And you just can't stop my knife and fork when I see a Christmas ham. So if you don't like the way, I look, well I just don't give a damn...!"

In a flash, he jumped onto the dais and hauled Tannen up from his seat. "Hey, what the hell...!?" Tannen protested, to no avail, as Cameron started spinning him in a circle rapidly. "Because the world keeps spinning round and round, and my heart's keeping time to the speed of sound..." he continued the song, pushing the dazed Tannen towards Natalie, who joined him on the dais and spun Tannen herself, "I was lost till I heard the drums, then I found my way...!"

"Everybody, you know the lyrics, join in!" Ferris shouted out loud, waving the legislators and donors onto the floor. A few rose and joined in the dancing, while others remained reluctantly sitting until pulled to their feet by the rest of the Drama Club members. In moments, the floor was crowded with dancers. Ferris squinted to look for Jerry and saw him by the end of the dais. He waved at Cameron and pointed towards Jerry. Cameron looked, nodded, and started dancing Tannen towards the other boy, who had the hacked cell phone in hand, ready to make the switch. Just as Tannen was in range, however, the senator pulled himself out of Cameron's grasp and started stomping off, out of reach of Jerry's attempt to grab the phone. "No, no...!" Ferris grimaced, watching a disgusted Tannen pushing through the crowd, waving for his secretary and lover in the back row of seats to follow. "Jim!" he leaped up and waved to the assistant deputy director for media relations outside the door, "He's leaving; bring him back in!"

Jim glanced towards Tannen, who was just about out the door, then grabbed him in a flash and danced him back into the ballroom. "Hey, take your hands off me!" the senator protested.

"You can't stop today as it comes speeding down the track," Jim broke into the last regular verse of the song himself, trying to get Tannen close to Jerry, "Yesterday is history, and it's never coming back. For tomorrow is a brand new day, and it don't know white from black...!"

"I said let go of me!" Tannen jerked hard to the right, again going out of Jerry's range before he could grab for his pocket. Jim quickly picked the senator up and started pressing him over his head. "Come on, now!" he mumbled to Jerry out of the corner of his mouth, dipping Tannen low enough for him to reach. Jerry quickly reached into Tannen's pocket and pulled out the regular cell phone...but unluckily, a man dancing nearby bumped into him before he could substitute the fake one, sending it flying out of his grasp and skidding across the floor. And worse, Tannen had noticed the phone's removal. "Hey! He took my phone!" he screamed, pointing accusingly in Jerry's direction. Jim hastily dumped Tannen off to some wildly dancing donors, who carried him across the floor. "Ferris, it's over there; get it, quick!" he shouted over the din of the song, pointing at it.

Still belting out the lyrics and trying to look natural, Ferris danced across the floor, trying to get to the phone, but each time he got close, someone kicked it out of his reach. He did a spectacular Baryshnikov move through the air and grabbed hold of the phone briefly, but was then bumped himself, sending the phone flying through the air, where it bounced off the hands of the dancers on the floor, many now eagerly getting into the song despite their exalted positions. "This is straining this story's credibility to have it do this...!" he complained out loud, trying to push through the throngs of people to get close to it.

"Hey Ferris, this is great!" Rachel eagerly bent down into his face, "They love us! Maybe I'll get that boosted scholarship after all!"

"Hope so. Big finish: You can't stop the motion of the ocean or the rain from above; they can try to stop the paradise we're dreaming of, but they cannot stop the rhythm of two hearts in love to stay..." Ferris frantically sang out the final lines of the last refrain and spun Rachel off to another dancer, then turned back towards the phone's last location-just in time to see an elderly man dancing by the open window knock it right out with a wave of his hands. "Oh no...!" Ferris groaned, cartwheeling to the window in rhythm with the closing crescendo and glancing outside just in time to see the hacked phone get crushed by a garbage truck passing underneath. Ferris slumped down on the windowsill and slapped his hands over his face. "Tell me that did not just happen...!" came Cameron's horrified voice over his shoulder.

"Hate to say it, Cam, but you were right; it went wrong," Ferris admitted glumly.

"Now what!? Tannen's bound to know something's up now, Ferris...!"

"That's him, grab him!" came Tannen's shout over the loud applause from the guests in the ballroom. His heart in his throat, Ferris slowly turned to see a pair of security guards grabbing Jerry, trying to run out the door with Tannen's regular phone. "He tried to steal my phone!" the senator shouted accusingly, "Take him downtown and book him!"

"You ruined my family's life, Tannen; they've got to know it too!" Jerry shouted at him, "Don't nominate this man for president; he has ties to corrupt businessmen and thugs!" he shouted at everyone else in the ballroom, "He stood outside my dad's store and all but preached for it to come down...!"

"No, no, don't blow the cover here...!" Ferris whimpered silently, but Jerry continued shouting, "He's a demon, don't listen to word he says!"

"Sorry about this, folks; I've never seen this young man before in my life, and I don't have a clue what he's talking about," Tannen lied to the onlookers. "Take him down to the precinct; I'm pressing full charges on him for theft and attempted slander," he demanded to the guards, who nodded and started dragging Jerry out.

"Let go of me; he's lying!" Jerry continued shouting, "You're all making a big mistake...!"

The guards hauled him out the door and out of sight, silencing his shouts. "Ferris, now what do we do!?" horrified herself, Sloane joined him by the window.

"I wish, I knew, Sloane, I wish I knew," Ferris shook his head. For once, he was at a total loss for ideas.

"Too late anyway; he knows now," Cameron groaned, pointing at Tannen, who was staring in shock at his cell phone. _"Sixteen calls? What the hell's this all about!?"_ the senator clearly mouthed, then stormed out of the ballroom to make some calls of his own. Ferris lowered his head grimly. The plan had come apart faster than he'd even anticipated it possibly could have, and he didn't know how they could move forward and salvage victory...


	10. Ed Rooney, Psychopath

"Evening, Ed," Grace knocked on the ajar door of Rooney's motel room, "Hope you're feeling better."

A loud, furious growl was Rooney's response from inside. "I bought you some donuts," Grace pushed the door open, "I know that after being beaten to a pulp by that gorilla, you might not be hungry, but I thought that...Ed?" her brow furled with concern. Rooney was sitting with his back to her on the bed, downing a bottle of beer in one shot. Moreover, Grace could see numerous additional bottles littering the floor. "Ed, I didn't know you were a drinker..." she said softly, aghast.

"Wouldn't you be too if Ferris Bueller did to you what he's done to me!? Get out," Rooney snarled, not turning towards her.

"OK, I understand, Ed. I'll just leave the donuts right here on the table," Grace laid the box there, "When you're hungry for them..."

"I DON'T WANT YOUR DONUTS, YOU STUPID DEAF MORON!" Rooney bellowed, jumping to his feet to face her. His tie was uncharacteristically undone, his shirt partially unbuttoned, and his eyes bloodshot, "I don't want anything from you, or anyone else connected with Shermer High!" he shouted angrily, "Because you've been working hand in hand with Ferris to humiliate me all this time, haven't you!? Just admit it, you have!"

"I can tell this isn't a good time, Ed. Maybe in the morning, after you've slept it off..." Grace reached for the donuts. In a flash, Rooney grabbed them himself and hurled the box into the wall. "I said I don't want anything from you, you idiotic little harpy!" he screamed hatefully at her, "For the record, I could never stand you! You're a stupid, brainless excuse of a woman, and you held me back! You and Ferris and everyone in that damn school conspired to ruin my life!"

"Ed, please, you're starting to scare me...!" Grace begged him, looking unnerved.

"Good! That means you'll take me seriously!" Rooney snapped, grabbing another bottle of liquor from the bed and downing it in a single gulp, "So run off to Ferris, and tell him this is it! I can take having my car towed, I can take being kicked repeatedly in the face, I can even take falling off the top of this motel into a dumpster, but setting me up to be assaulted by a gorilla was the absolute last straw! Only one of us is going back to Chicago, and you better believe it's going to be me! So go on, you filthy saboteur, go tell Ferris this is the beginning of the end! And then don't ever show your face in my office again!"

"Ed, please, after all we've been through together...!" Grace looked crushed.

"GET OUT!" Rooney screamed, grabbing the nearest lamp and hurling it at her. With a scream, Grace turned and ran out of the room. Rooney slammed the door shut behind her and locked it. "Yeah, Ferris, this is the end," he snarled, looking through his shirt at the medical tape on his chest thanks to the gorilla, "You've just dug your grave as far as Edward R. Rooney is concerned. Now, you're going to wish you were never born when I get through with you...!"

He dug out his cell phone and started dialing, then growled after he got the wrong number at first and re-dialed it correctly. "Hello!?" came Bob Tannen's nervous voice on the other end of the phone.

"Bob, it's Ed Rooney, we need to talk," the principal told him gruffly.

"Now's not a good time, Ed; all hell's broken lose here!" the senator lamented fearfully, "My brother and Ron Prince called me in a rage; the cops got them to try and finger each other over some stuff going on in Chicago. Lord knows what they sent out...!"

"You idiot, you've been tricked by Ferris Bueller!" Rooney bellowed at him, "He's trying to bring you down over what that damn kid's said!"

"Well Ed, confidentially, all of it's true," Tannen admitted, "I'm going to try and cover up the loose ends as best I can; I called Will Karkovice myself on a public phone and asked him..."

"Would you just shut up and listen to me!?" Rooney shouted, downing another bottle of beer. He smashed it in disgust against the wall before continuing, "You won't go down, Bob, if you just listen to every word I say here. I want that job as your chief of staff, and I know how to make sure this whole possible scandal disappears by the time you step before the podium tomorrow afternoon. Now listen very closely, here's the plan..."

* * *

"This is definitely a new low," Cameron lamented glumly, slouched halfway over a couch in the White House's West Sitting Hall.

"A whole week's work, right out the window just like that, literally," Sloane agreed, slumped in a chair, "Jerry's family's sunk if he's locked up for a long time; I don't think they can support themselves otherwise. Anything at all, Ferris!?" she begged her boyfriend, slumped in a chair himself.

"Wish I could, Sloane, but this time, I don't know what we can do," Ferris sighed, deflated, "I don't see how we can get anything on Tannen now that he's aware there's a problem. And now Jerry's..."

He put his hands over his face. "I know sometimes I stretch the truth, sometimes I trick people outright, and yeah, a lot of times I've taken at least some pleasure in it, but I never want to see any innocent people hurt in any way," he mumbled, "No matter how I twist it, I was the one who wanted Jerry to have the honor of grabbing the phone off Tannen, so the fact he's in jail is my fault to some degree. And I feel terrible because of it," he slowly rose to his feet and trudged towards the couch. "I'd take the fall for him if I could, just like I was ready to take the blame for your dad's Ferrari," he told Cameron, "And seeing how he took it, I've spent the last few months wishing I'd talked you out of talking me out of it..."

"No, I did what I had to do. It's Dad's fault he took it wrong," Cameron declared, shifting upright, "And I don't want to hear Ferris Bueller saying there's no hope going forward. Because I'm not giving up."

"You're not?" Ferris frowned.

"No. The old Cameron Frye may have been a quitter, but this one isn't," Cameron rose forcefully to his feet with a determined look, "We've gone this far, we might as well finish what we started. Otherwise Tannen'll keep hurting people. Including of course Natalie's dad with his fake corruption claims, and I'm not going to sit around and let him hurt the Simmons family like that," he turned towards the president's daughter in the chair against the far wall, "I promise that. So come up with something, Ferris, because we're going to keep at this."

"That's the spirit, Cameron," Ferris broke into a smile, "That's how I've wanted you to see things all these years. I'm proud of you, I really am," he shook his friend's hand, "As I guess Natalie is too?" he turned to her.

"I couldn't be more prouder of Cameron than I am right now," smiling herself, Natalie hugged him, "I appreciate that you're willing to defend me like that, Cameron."

"Well, you're more than worth it, Natalie," Cameron returned the smile, "Besides, all the people in that ballroom hurt you cheering your dad's fall. If Tannen wins, they'll get away with that, and that can't be allowed."

"You're right. I was so steamed at those hypocrites; when Dad was running, they cheered him on like he was an Olympic champion, and now that he's run into a rough stretch, they want to dump him in a heartbeat for the next popular guy up," Natalie growled in disgust, "I have problems with Dad, but he's still my father, and, well, part of me does still care for him even if he forgets me sometimes, and I hate to see him treated like that."

"Yeah, we've got to stop this, and we will. Like Cameron says, it's always darkest right before the dawn-which, of course, is easy to say at three in the morning," Ferris remarked, gesturing at the clock on the nearest table, "OK, if nothing else, we have to spring Jerry out of prison; I owe him that much at least. Then we've got to find a way to go around Tannen to..."

"Pardon me, Miss Natalie, a phone call for you," one of the butlers stuck his head around the corner with a cell phone in hand.

"For me? At three in the morning?" Natalie frowned at the clock, then shrugged and picked took the phone from the butler. "Hello?" she inquired. Her expression grew concerned. "Who is this? Guys...!" she waved the Shermer High students close to her. "OK, I'm putting you on speaker here with a couple people who might be interested; tell them who you are," she declared, hitting the speaker button.

"As I said, my name's Kathleen Hale, and I'm Bob Tannen's secretary," came the nervous woman's voice on the other end of the line, "Since you were at the fundraiser when everything happened, I figured you'd be someone I can talk to, Miss Simmons. I...I'd like to set up a meeting to reveal everything I know about the crimes Bob's committed."

"Oh really?" Natalie's face lit up, as did everyone else's, "Is this honest, no tricks...?"

"No tricks, I swear. I've grown increasingly disgusted by Bob over the last few months, seeing him reap an under the table fortune from criminal acts back in Chicago," Hale confessed, "Watching that boy get wrongfully arrested tonight was the last straw; I feel I have to do something. But I can't go to the police or FBI; Bob's been looking over my shoulder for months, making it clear he doesn't trust me. So I reasoned someone like you who'd have Secret Service protection could safely get what I have to say to the proper people."

"OK, OK, we're open to discussion," Natalie nodded softly, "Where and when would you like to meet?"

"Bob and I have been spending nights at a cabin he rents in the woods near Rockville for the last few months. He asked me to stay there anyway while he goes to make his presidential announcement with his family tomorrow. That's another reason I'm disgusted enough to do this: he claims he can't stand his wife, but shoves me away to be at her side when it can advance his career, even after he claimed I was the most important thing in his life...!" Hale growled bitterly, "But anyway, he'll be gone from there at ten; come by about ten thirty, and I can probably provide you with hard documents and voicemails that can bring him down."

"OK, I think we can manage ten thirty," Natalie turned to the others, who nodded, "And you'd be ready to testify to everything in court?"

"Yes. I've felt horrible that I've been enabling Bob in his adultery; this is my redemption," Hale said firmly.

"All right. As long as everything seems to check out, we'll see you tomorrow morning. Can we contact you some way beforehand in case...?"

"Better not to call me; Bob'll get suspicious if...I've got to go, I think he's waking up for a midnight snack...!" Hale hissed, at which point the line disconnected. "We're back in business!" Sloane declared happily with a loud shriek of delight.

"I don't know, guys; this has the makings of a possible trap," Cameron was concerned.

"I know, Cameron, but we'll just take extra Secret Service people with us to counterbalance anything in case this is a trap. In the meantime, like Sloane said, our hope's restored, WOOOOO!" Ferris yelped, spinning in a circle.

"Hey, what's going on out here!?" a bleary-eyed Corey Jacobson stuck his head out of the nearest bedroom.

"Oh, just some good news, Corey. Hey, listen," Ferris approached him, "We'll be heading out in a little while; we've got some things to take care of. While we're gone, Senator Tannen's going to be setting up for a big press conference outside tomorrow at noon. If we're not back by the time he starts, you and the rest of the senior class try to stall him until we get there; it's vitally important to the nation that he not be allowed to finish his speech."

"Ferris, what's going on here!?" Corey frowned sleepily at him.

"You'll find out soon enough, Corey; right now it's need to know, and only we need to know everything. Have a good night's sleep," Ferris bade him a good night. Corey shook his head softly and disappeared back into his room. "Come on, let's wake Jim up," Ferris waved the others down the hall, "He can probably come in handy to spring Jerry out of jail. Then we'll see if we've in fact hit the jackpot with Ms. Hale. Either way, it's smoother sailing from here."

* * *

"Again, thanks for calling, Grace," Mr. Jacobson told her grimly, helping her out of the cab they'd taken back to the motel, "I was afraid something like this might happen."

"It's just not like Ed, to be drunk and angry like this," Grace lamented sadly, "All these years, I thought he really cared for me..."

"I'm sorry you had to be put through that, Grace. But there's better men out there than Ed, I can promise you that. Sir," Mr. Jacobson hailed down the motel's manager, who was in fact working on the lock to Rooney's room, "I need to talk to you about..."

"Your boss, right?" the manager looked up at him with a disgusted look, "I got three noise complaints about him throwing things around in here over the last half hour, and when I came out to confront him on it, he stole my car and drove off," he gestured with contempt to an empty parking space in front of his office across the complex.

"Did he strike you or harm you in any way before he stole it?" Mr. Jacobson inquired with a deep frown.

"No, he wasn't in the room then. He must have been hiding around back, waiting for me to leave the office so he could grab my car keys off the hooks. And what the hell did he do to the lock here!?" the manager jiggled the knob hard, to no effect, "This is definitely coming out of his pocket...!"

"Wait, is that blood!?" aghast, Grace pointed at the shattered room window, which was indeed dripping with red liquid. "Yeah, I see it," the manager nodded, "The idiot must have cut himself climbing through it after he wrecked the lock. Plus, I think he broke into the maintenance shed before that and stole some paint too," he gestured at the small building behind the motel, the door of which had been torn off its hinges, and out of which overturned and leaking paint cans had spilled, "If I'd known that..here we go," he declared as the doorknob finally turned, "This is the last time I take in...sweet mother of God...!"

He stared numbly around what was left of Rooney's room, which the principal had completely trashed. The beds and tables were overturned, the TV had been smashed, wallpaper had been ripped off the walls, and the sink was overflowing in the bathroom. But most ominously, a single phrase had been painted over all the walls in red paint: FERRIS MUST DIE. "What's that supposed to mean!? the manager asked out loud with a frown.

"Oh my God...!" horror swept Mr. Jacobson's face, "He's finally lost it...call the police immediately!" he ordered the manager, "Tell them to put out a red alert APB for him at once! Grace, call Ed's cell phone, try and talk any sense you can into him before he actually kills Ferris or anyone else!"

"I don't know if he'll listen to me anymore, Tom..." Grace shook her head.

"Just do it! This is a life or death situation now, and we've got to stop him before he goes completely over the edge!" Mr. Jacobson shouted at her. He ran out of the room and dialed his own cell phone frantically. "Corey, this is Dad; are you still at the White House right now!?" he asked his son breathlessly. "Good. Listen, stay there until I tell you otherwise, and tell all the Secret Service men you see not to let Mr. Rooney onto the property if he shows up...he's gone insane, he wants to kill Ferris Bueller! Is Ferris there now...well where did he go!? Oh God...tell the Secret Service to send out an APB for them immediately, they're in grave danger...!"


	11. Walking Into a Trap

"So I know, this is a fully legal writ you've got?" Ferris asked Jim, bustling behind him towards the front door of the main Washington D.C. police station, "Considering I feel partly responsible for this happening to Jerry, I want to be completely on the level this time, other than our disguises, of course..."

"Fully legal, Ferris; I got it right from the deputy attorney general," Jim assured him, "And even if they ask some questions on that, I was able to scrape together enough of the bail money from the rest of Mr. Simmons's legal team," he held up a check and adjusted the fake beard he'd put on. "You know, Ferris, it's been a thrill to work with you these last couple of days," he admitted to the boy, "I just wasn't having any fun with my job until you and your friends showed up. Working with you and them, I feel I have some meaning in my life again. It's going to be sad, I'll admit, when you all have to go back to Chicago..."

"I can give you my personal number the next time you're back in the greater Chicago area," Ferris told him, adjusting the tie on his suit, "If you ever need another day off, I'm up for it. Same with Natalie if she's ever in town."

"I'm sure she will. I can tell she and Cameron hit it off real good, so I think she'll find a way to Chicago at some point. Here we go, just act professional," Jim cleared his throat loudly and approached the station's front desk, where the sergeant on duty was on the phone. "...any of the prints around the store match anyone we know?" he was asking one of his colleagues, "Well, send it to the lab and tell them to get an ID as quick as they can; with that many guns stolen, someone could be up to something big, and we...hold on a sec, I've got company," he noticed Ferris and Jim in front of his desk and laid the receiver down. "Can I help you two?"

"Afternoon," Jim greeted the policeman, "My name's Ned Wiel from the law firm of Wiel, Robbya, and Blynd, and this is my nephew and legal assistant Dean Andrews III," he introduced Ferris, "It's my understanding you're currently holding a young man by the name of Jerry Greenfield here on theft charges?"

"Let me check," the desk sergeant typed some information into his computer, "Yeah, he's here. Are you his lawyer?"

"Uh, yeah, court-appointed," Jim said quickly, "And I have a writ of habeas corpus here signed by Deputy Attorney General Poindexter authorizing Mr. Greenfield's release from this establishment," he laid the paper on the sergeant's desk, "As well as a check for one hundred thousand dollars to cover his bail," he laid that on the desk too. The sergeant stared intently at both pieces of paper. "What firm were you from again?" he asked with raised eyebrows.

"Wiel, Robbya, and Blynd. We're a really small firm; we were the only ones readily available to represent Mr. Greenfield," Jim explained.

"Uncle Ned here has seventeen years of legal experience," Ferris cut in, "Once we were assigned to the case, we realized there was ample reason to suspect Jerry...uh, Master Greenfield was wrongfully sent here and is too young for prison anyway, so we filed for the writ and got it."

Looking suspicious, the sergeant looked over the writ and check again. "Everything does seem in order, but...which judge authorized this!?" he grilled them.

"We got it straight from the deputy A.G., like I said," Jim said, starting to sweat a little bit. The sergeant shook his head and picked up the phone. "I'll try and clear this with him, so I know you're on the level here," he told them, "So you know, the Greenfield kid was caught red-handed stealing Senator Tannen's wallet, and the senator has told us he's pressing full charges..."

"Well, we hope to sit down with the senator's representatives and work out a plea bargain right after this. Uh, can we see him?" Jim inquired.

"Yeah, down in the basement, cell nine, but no going inside until I clear this," the sergeant waved them off. Jim took a deep breath once they were away from the desk. "Still think we should have just given our real names," he complained to Ferris.

"Maybe. But as long as the writ is legal, I don't think it matters. Besides," Ferris looked over his shoulder again, "What fun would it be for the readers if we just walked in and walked out as ourselves?"

"Yeah, good point," Jim nodded knowingly. The two of them descended the stairs to the cellblock and up the hall until they reached cell nine. "Hello in there," Jim called into Jerry, who was lying on the bed with his face to the wall, "Remember us?"

"Go away," Jerry muttered bitterly without turning around, "I've had enough of this adventure."

"But don't you want to get out of there?" the assistant deputy director of media relations for the White House asked with a frown.

"It doesn't matter if I'm in this cell or out; my life's ruined anyway!" Jerry snapped, "Now that I have a criminal record, there's no way I'm ever going to get any job! Tannen's going to walk no matter what we do, and there's no way I can help my family now! I should have just sat down and kept my mouth shut back at the school and not said a word to anyone...!"

"I just want to say, Jerry, I'm sorry," Ferris approached the bars, "It is partially my fault you're in this. But that's why I'm going to make it right. We have a writ for your release, and a possible smoking gun in bringing Tannen down; his lover wants to talk, and we have an appointment..."

"Doesn't matter, and I'm not interested," Jerry muttered, still not turning around.

"So you're just giving up on everything? After you've come this far to try and get justice for your family, and for everyone else Senator Tannen may have cheated and swindled? How is that going to help your family?" Ferris goaded him, "Come on, even if this is a losing cause, we might as well go down fighting to the bitter end. Because sometimes the struggle is just as exciting as the victory, and if you quit now, you cheapen the struggle. Trust me on this-I know that's a little harder now given everything that's happened, but I'm not giving up fighting for you. Now I'm asking you not to give up fighting for yourself and everyone and everything you care for. When we do that, the bad guys automatically win."

Jerry slowly rolled over on the bunk. "And your release form's perfectly legitimate, no problems?" he grilled Ferris and Jim.

"Perfectly legal, perfectly valid," Jim held it up, "And I..."

"All right, you guys," the sergeant was storming up the hall towards them with a frown, "I called around; there's no law firm out there named Wiel, Robbya, and Blynd. So what's the real story!?"

"Uh...like I said, we're a really, uh, small firm, so small we, um, don't even have a listed phone number," Jim stammered, "No website, no..."

"Cut the comedy act," the sergeant put one hand on the holster of his gun, "Impersonating a lawyer is a felony offense, buster. So unless you have a good excuse to..."

"But the writ's still good, isn't it?" Jim asked desperately.

"Yeah, it's good. Too bad you're clearly not. So as I was saying, you'd better talk fast and tell me what the real..."

An idea struck Ferris. He spun back to Jerry and mimed choking towards him. Jerry shook his head and mouthed, _"No more tricks."_ Ferris rolled his eyes. _"Do you want out_ _of here or not!? It's the only way right now!"_ he mouthed back. Sighing, Jerry pretended to gasp for air and went into spasms. "Officer, look, he's having a seizure!" Ferris gasped out loud, pointing into the cell, "His file said this could happen! Get him out of there!"

"Oh God, not here, not now!" the sergeant frantically unlocked the cell door and threw it open. Ferris casually snatched the keys out of his hands behind his back, as well as the sergeant's radio, and handed them to Jim. "Here, hand him out here; we'll take him out front and call an ambulance!" he extended his arms for Jerry. The sergeant picked the still shaking Jerry up off the floor and handed Ferris's cohort to him. "Thanks," Ferris commended him. He then nodded to Jim, who swung the cell door shut and locked it in a flash. "And since that writ was legal, and I posted the proper bail, officer, technically we've followed the rule of law here," he said coolly.

"Hey, let me outta here!" the sergeant shouted, grabbing the bars and shaking them hard, furious at having fallen for such an obvious trick.

"Well, we'll give you a fair chance," Jim laid the keys on the ground just out of the sergeant's reach, "If you can get to them, you can let yourself out. "Shall we?" he asked the boys, gesturing towards the end of the hall, "We've got a big appointment in Rockville to hopefully seal the deal in forty-five minutes."

"Just no more manipulations or tricks, you guys; I just want to do this straight up from here on," Jerry cautioned them.

"No more tricks, Jerry; this'll be a straight-up interview, then we're back to the White House to stop Tannen's speech," Ferris assured him. He sided up to Jim once they'd reentered the squad room and whispered in his ear, "I forgot to ask, did you get through to the president this time before we left?"

"In fact, I was on the line with Matthew Simmons while you were getting ready; he's on his way back now, and should be just about..." Jim checked his watch, "over the Canary Islands now. So, judging by how fast I know Air Force One can go, he should get here just in time. He's steamed at the thought Tannen would try and frame him for his own crimes to get the party's nomination. Even better," he leaned closer to Ferris, "Your idea to send him the photos of Nat's birthday worked; he feels genuinely horrible he missed it, and he gave up a high level conference with the Bahrainis to come back."

"Good for him. It's the first step to becoming a better father again. Well, anyway, we have," Ferris checked his own watch, "Two hours to bring the train home. So let's go out to Rockville and seal the deal."

* * *

"Ah, these are the days you love to wake up to," Mr. Bueller declared out loud, stretching on his front porch and staring contentedly at the sights of summer all up and down the sun-bathed street, "These are the days June was made for."

He bent down to pick up the newspaper from the front step and walked back inside. "Morning, honey," he kissed his wife in the living room, "Since it's the weekend, what do you want to do today?"

"Didn't you remember, Tom? Don and Nancy Chinich are coming over for lunch; we've got to get set up in the backyard," Mrs. Bueller reminded him.

"Oh yes, I remember you mentioned that. Well, let's get the tables ready, then," Mr. Bueller threw open the basement door and hefted a large table. "Ferris call at all? I haven't heard anything from him since the flight left," he asked his wife, straining under the weight of the table.

"He hasn't called me either," Mrs. Bueller shook her head, picking up a pair of folding chairs to carry out, "So I'm guessing he's too busy enjoying the trip. You know, part of me wishes we could have could have gone along as chaperones..."

"Nah, Katie, eventually you have to trust the kids can take care of themselves. And there's no reason we can't trust Ferris," Mr. Bueller argued, helping her place the chairs, "It will be a bit more lonely around here without him, though," he grew melancholy.

"I know, Tom. I hope he'll drop by when he's in college...Jeannie, give us a hand setting up for the Chiniches," Mrs. Bueller asked her daughter, who'd come into the kitchen and was about to pour a bowl of cereal.

"After I just got up!?" Jeannie protested.

"Jeannie, don't push it. You can certainly carry a few chairs and food," her mother admonished her. Sighing, Jeannie abandoned the cereal bowl and trudged to the refrigerator to get out some hamburgers. "Go put them out on the grill, sweetheart; I'll cook them up real soon," her father instructed her. "It's good to know that when...say, Katie, look at that," he pointed at the TV screen on the countertop, where footage of the congresspersons and donors dancing to You Can't Stop the Beat at the hotel the previous night was being shown. "Oh boy, I knew things were crazy in Washington, but I didn't know they'd end up doing that," he remarked, bursting into laughter at the sight.

"No telling what the people in Congress are going to do next," Mrs. Bueller chuckled as well, "That must have been a sight to see for everyone there. Too bad Ferris probably missed it. Oh well, I'm sure he's seeing lots of other interesting things on the trip..."

She and her husband turned and walked outside with more chairs in hand. Jeannie, in contrast, stormed right up in front of the television set. "He'd better not have been orchestrating this, because if...AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHH! I KNEW IT!" she roared as Ferris's image appeared on the screen, popping impressive dance moves across the floor, "He's having the time of his life, and I'm stuck being his lapdog and a...!"

"Jeannie, stop shouting in there and bring those hamburgers out here!" her mother ordered loudly from outside. Growling, Jeannie snatched up the meat. "It's not fair," she grumbled out loud, stomping towards the back door, "It's just not fair at all...!"

* * *

"So what's it look like, Phil?" Jim asked the Secret Service agent walking towards him at the truck stop just off Interstate 270 in Rockville.

"We went around the property three times; no sign of any snipers' nests or hidden bombs or any similar threats," Phil said without any emotion, "We also knocked on the door; the lady's alone, and there's no sign of any bugs or cameras in the cabin."

"Wonderful. OK, you, Bill, and Gil go with the kids, just in case anything were to go wrong," Jim directed him. He bustled over to Ferris and his friends by one of the Secret Service cars near the truck stop's restaurant. "OK, it's in your hands now," he told them, "I'll be waiting here with the rest of these guys," he pointed at the half dozen or so other Secret Service agents clustered nearby, "If anything goes wrong, call me, and I'll send them in for backup. It is now," he checked his watch, "Ten eighteen. Judging by Washington's usual traffic patterns on a Saturday morning, you've probably got about a half hour in there before we have to pack it in and get back to the White House to expose Tannen."

"OK then, we'll be quick and the point. You guys ready?" Ferris asked the other teens, who nodded firmly. "OK, hands in," he held his out for them to grab, "For the colony, and for oppressed ants everywhere..."

"Ferris..." Cameron raised an eyebrow at him.

"Sorry Cam, couldn't resist. For country, and justice, and everything that's good and right, let's do this!" Ferris pumped his fist downward, climbed into the driver's seat of the Secret Service car and pulled out into the parking lot, the chosen Secret Service agents following behind them in a second car. Jim and the other agents followed them to the road and flashed them a farewell thumbs-up...

...in so doing, not noticing the black car at the edge of the truck stop's parking lot far behind them, the window of which now rolled down. A familiar face with bloodshot eyes and now wild red hair leaned out and watched Ferris's car disappear out of sight over the interstate bridge. Grinning sadistically, Rooney starting dialing his cell phone. "They're on their way. There's three agents with them. Go one car at a time. One of you stop here and make sure the fat dope and the Secret Service can't interfere," he said softly.

"Gotcha, Ed, we'll take care of it," the person on the other end said. Rooney hung up and started his own car's engine, eagerly fingering the hunting rifle with telescopic sight lying on the floor next to him. "The game's about up, Ferris," he snickered with a cold laugh, shifting into drive and pulling forward, "And there's no way you can weasel your way out of this one..."

* * *

Five minutes later, unaware of what was swirling around him, Ferris knocked on the door of the bright red cabin in a rustic swath of woods outside Rockville. The door opened a crack. "Are you alone?" the woman he'd seen with Senator Tannen the previous night stuck her head out.

"All except for Natalie's Secret Service detail," Ferris gestured at the three agents, "They'll guard the perimeter while we speak, Mrs. Hale."

"Come on in then," she waved them inside the cabin, "Have a seat," she pointed at the sofa, "If you can get what I have to say to the president, Bob'll be ruined for sure...you're out already?" she was surprised to see Jerry among the teens.

"They got me out-a little extra-legally, but they did it," Jerry shot a stern look at Ferris, but quickly switched it into a small smile of gratitude. "So what have you got!?" he grilled Hale.

"I swiped a couple of the letters Bob wrote to Wilson Karkovice," Hale opened a drawer in the kitchen counter, "He offered him ten thousand dollars to force out all the holdouts in Glencoe. I've been having an affair with Bob for two years now, and I can tell you there's other similar scams he's committed all throughout Illinois. He and his brother then reap the profits."

"And you'd be willing to testify to this in court under oath?" Sloane pressed her.

"Yes. Here," Hale pulled out a manila envelope and handed it to Ferris, "Everything you'll need to know's in there."

"Well, we'll see what we've got here," Ferris unwound the envelope...and frowned. For the only thing inside was a single document, on which was inscribed, in extra-large letters, THE GAME'S UP, FERRIS. NOW YOU'RE MINE. "What!? What's this all...!?" he started to protest, but then realized in horror exactly what it was-right as a barrage of gunfire exploded outside, and the Secret Service agents could be heard groaning in agony. "Oh God...!" he gasped, jumping back to his feet, "Everyone, out the back door, quick!" he urged the other teens, "We've been set up...!"

But the back door then burst open, and a half dozen heavily armed men swarmed in. "Freeze, you little brats!" the leader, a tall man with dark hair who was toting two machine guns, ordered them, leveling both guns right at Ferris, "None of you are going anywhere."

"You filthy snake, you lied to us!" Natalie bellowed at Hale.

"Bob's my life, and I'd do anything for that man," Hale sighed dreamily, "Especially for the chance to be First Lady. Have a seat, kids, like I said," she pointed them back to the sofa, "Bob has a speech to make, and it shouldn't have to be interrupted."

Sighing in disgust, Ferris plopped down on the sofa. He took a quick glance out the window and was crushed to see three well-dressed bodies being dragged into the woods by more gunmen. They were completely on their own now, he rued. He'd have to think fast to get everyone out of this one...but he knew he had to try, given their lives almost certainly depended on it...

He waited until the goons had all turned to each other to congratulate themselves for their success, briefly taking all their eyes off their prisoners. In a flash, he turned to Sloane and silently gestured for her to start recording on her cell phone. Sloane nodded and reached quickly into her purse, pulling her hand back out right before the villains turned back around. "So you're Wilson Karkovice, then?" Ferris asked the leader of the goons out loud.

"Yep, that's me, kid. Apparently my reputation precedes me," Karkovice grinned, impressed with himself.

"Yeah, you can say it did. Jerry's told us all about how badly his father got assaulted when he wouldn't sell his store to Prince Construction," Ferris gestured at Jerry, "And boy, you must have been really hungry for a payday to have been that brutal with the man."

"Greenfield, huh?" Karkovice squinted at Jerry, "Yeah, I remember you now; we cased that store for a week before we moved in. Of course, if he'd been smart enough to sell, it wouldn't have had to have come to that..."

"He's a cripple now for your information, you dirty son of a...!" Jerry angrily rose to his feet, but another gunman grabbed him and hurled him back onto the couch. "Well too bad, that's not my concern," Karkovice shrugged indifferently, "With the money I was offered for the job, I'd've been crazy to refuse."

"Let me guess, right out of Bert Tannen's bank's vaults?" Cameron spoke up, having picked up on Ferris's plan, "It was the perfect cover, wasn't it; Ronald Prince stashed the payment for you and your goons there for the jobs you carried out for him, Bert Tannen handed it out to you after it was done, and his brother the senator got to come in and crow about making progress getting rid of blight while pocketing some bribe money from Prince on the side. Am I getting warm there?"

"You've really done your homework, kid. But you're not going to tell anyone, are you?" Karkovice leaned menacingly in his face.

"Of course he's not. But we'll deal with him later," came a familiar cold voice from the back door. Rooney entered the room, his eyes murderously locking in on Ferris immediately. "Right now, we're going to take care of far more personal matters. Greetings...Mr...Bueller," he growled in Ferris's face in a faux computerized voice, "Shall...we...play...a...game!?"

In a flash, he hauled Ferris violently to his feet and punched him hard in the chest to loud cries from the other students. Ferris doubled over in pain, which left him wide open for Rooney to rear back with his hunting rifle and smash the handle right into Ferris's forehead, sending him crumpling to the mat. "Not so tough now, are you, Ferris!?" he roared, kicking him brutally in the ribs, "Get up and fight me like a real man!"

"Leave him alone!" Sloane screamed, trying to push past the gunmen to get Ferris.

"Shut the hell up, Petersen!" Rooney bellowed, thrusting the gun at her, "And for the record, you and Frye are hereby expelled, no appeals allowed! I said GET UP!" he jerked Ferris back to his feet, kicked him hard in the chest, then threw him into the wall. "Stop it!" Hale was now looking horrified herself. She tried to get between Rooney and Ferris, "I didn't agree to this; you said we were just going to keep them under heavy watch until...!"

"Get out of my way!" Rooney shoved her aside and hauled Ferris back up again. "You brought this on yourself, Ferris! Did you really think I was going to let you make a fool out of me and get away with it!?" he snarled in his student's face, "Well now you're going to pay in blood!"

"In that case, can I have a ten second head start...!" Ferris tried to reason, only for Rooney to smash the rifle handle across his face again, sending him back down to the floor. "Time to say...!" the principal started to declare, cocking his rifle.

"Quiet, shut up a minute," Karkovice held up his hand, holding up his ringing cell phone. He activated it and set it on speaker. "Yeah?"

"Will, is it all under control?" came Senator Tannen's voice on the other end.

"Yep, we've got these brat kids here at gunpoint; it's all under control," Karkovice assured him.

"OK. There's a couple changes of plan. First, I moved up the press conference to eleven. Given everything that's unfolded, better to make the announcement for the presidency more quickly. Try and take care of them before I'm done, and make sure you destroy the bodies so that no one ever finds a trace of them."

"What!?" Hale looked stunned. "What are you doing, Bob!?" she rushed the phone, "You swore we weren't going to hurt them; you said we were just going to hold them here until...!"

"Sorry darling, but the plan changed," Tannen told her dryly, "Oh and Will, kill her too," he instructed his enforcer, "I can't have an adultery scandal hanging over my head, now can I?"

"WHAT!? But I gave everything for you...!?" a crushed Hale screamed at the phone, but was cut off as one of Karkovice's goons smashed his rifle over her head, sending her crumpling to the floor. "Orders are orders, lady," the goon sneered at her, "OK, who goes first?" he turned murderously to the teens.

"Ferris goes first of course. Turn your head, Ferris," Rooney gestured murderously at him with the rifle, "I want this to be quick and painless for me."

"No," Ferris tried to rise to his feet and squirm away. Rooney kicked him hard back down to the floor. "I SAID TURN YOUR HEAD, YOU FILTHY JACKASS CRETIN!" he screamed in carnal hatred, kicking Ferris over onto his stomach and jamming the rifle against the back of his head. "You've had this coming for years, and now you're going to get exactly what you deserve, Ferris! Prepare to go to Hell...!"

Just then a loud bang rang out from behind the cabin. Rooney and the others turned away just long enough for Ferris to squirm out of the principal's gun's barrel and kick Rooney in the legs, sending him toppling towards the floor...until Cameron leaped off the sofa, grabbed the principal in mid-fall and shoved him backwards towards Karkovice and his men, who conveniently were all standing in a row and were thus knocked over like ten pins. "Ferris, are you all right!?" Sloane worriedly jerked him back to his feet.

"Yes; go, run!" Ferris shouted at her and the others, who all leaped off the sofa and rushed out the cabin door. He waved Cameron towards the groaning Hale. The two of them hefted her up and carried her out the door as fast as they could. "I'm so sorry..." she mumbled regretfully, "I didn't think it would come to this...!"

"If you'll testify for real, it'll be a redemption for you," Ferris opened the back door of their car with his foot and helped shove Hale inside. Groaning from the injuries to his ribs, he staggered to the driver's seat and dove in. "What were those bangs!?" he turned back to ask Natalie, fumbling for the key to start the car.

"One of the Secret Service men must still be alive; he must have heard the shouting inside and set off a concussion grenade to...OH MY GOD, LOOK OUT!" Natalie screamed and dove to the floor, seeing an enraged Rooney rush out the door and aim his gun straight at the car. Ferris slid down himself as the ensuing shots shattered the windshield, sending glass cascading over him. He hastily threw the car into reverse and roared backwards down the road at eighty miles an hour, looking up only when the sound of gunshots had ceased. "I think I might have created a monster..." he mused grimly, spinning back around rapidly so they were facing forward.

"If Tannen switched the press conference till eleven, now we only have twenty minutes to get there in time to discredit him!" Jerry lamented, staring at his watch, "So pour it on, Ferris!" he urged him.

"Pedal's to the metal, Jerry...and unfortunately, we've got company...!" Ferris glanced out the rearview window to see a whole squadron of cars hot on their heels...and gun shots again started ringing out behind them, making everyone slide down in the car. "Jim, it was a trap; they're after us! Get us out of here!" Natalie screamed to the assistant deputy director of media relations over her cell phone.

"Yeah, I know, Nat; I went to go the bathroom, and they locked me in!" Jim lamented on the other end of the line, "I just broke out a couple minutes ago, but they shot out all our cars' tires! I can't help you right now!"

"Then what are we supposed to do!? We can't outrun them forever!" Cameron protested into the phone.

"Uh...get on the interstate and try and lose them in traffic. I'll catch up as fast as I can once I get another ride. Sorry, that's the best I can do now," Jim apologized, hanging up. Ferris sighed and hunched low over the steering wheel, turning hard back on the road that would lead them back to Interstate 270. "Well, you folks probably wanted an exciting finish, and you're going to get it," he said knowingly into the rearview mirror, ducking back in as a shot from his pursuers zinged dangerously close, "I just hope it doesn't turn out fatally for us, even if me dying here won't be an official death since it is just fan fiction..."

"What the hell are you going on about!?" Jerry upbraided him.

"I'll explain later...if there is a later...!" Ferris ducked another set of shots from behind. "If I ever meet the guy that wrote this, I'll kill him..." he muttered out loud, wondering if he and his friends would survive alive...


	12. An Obligatory Big Chase

"Mr. Rooney's really snapped!?" Corey said, aghast, into his cell phone just inside the White House's front gate.

"I'm afraid so, Corey; apparently he took the last couple humiliations he got put through on this trip a little too far, and he wants to kill me now," Ferris said as calmly as he could manage on the other end of the line, "He and Tannen's hired muscle are chasing us like it's the end of the world now, but I think we can shake them and get there in time."

"Well you'll have to hurry, Ferris; they're just about done setting up for Senator Tannen's speech here," Corey glanced through the fence, where a flag-bedecked platform had been set up outside the gate; indeed, the senator was clearly visible standing off to the side of the platform with his wife and children, going over some speech notes.

"Remember what I said last night: stall them, any way you can," Ferris urged him, "I've got to hang up now; I've got to concentrate on the road here. Just don't let him finish his speech until I get there."

Loud gunshots rang out on the other end of the phone right before Ferris hung up. Corey gulped nervously at the mere thought of what was likely unfolding on the other end of the line. "Was that Ferris!?" his father rushed up from the left.

"Yeah, and Mr. Rooney's right behind him with a very big gun. You were right, Dad, he's completely lost it," Corey said with a shiver.

"I was afraid this would happen for a long time now," Mr. Jacobson shook his head, "Did Ferris say where he was!?"

"He was close to getting back on I-270; he hopes to be here in fifteen minutes if he can shake everyone chasing him. He said to stall Senator Tannen till he gets here."

"Well we've got to even things out for him," Mr. Jacobson dug out his own cell phone and started dialing, "I'll tell the police to send all available units there and try and give him some escort and protection. You go get together everyone you can; I have a few ideas how we can hold Senator Tannen's speech up...what?"

"Oh it's just..." Corey was trying to suppress a laugh, "given what Ferris thinks of school most of the time, Dad, it's kind of amazing to see a teacher willing to help him outright, even you."

"Well, hard as it may be to believe, son, I was Ferris once, a long time ago. I'll tell you a couple stories about that later on, after we try and take care of this..."

* * *

"There, there, I-270 south!" Jerry shouted, pointing at the ramp coming up fast on their left.

"Mr. Rooney coming up fast on the right!" Sloane pointed out the rear windshield, where Ferris could see his nemesis's angry face at the steering wheel of the car rapidly pulling alongside his. The principal started to heft his rifle again, the barrel trained right at Ferris in the driver's seat. Ferris, thinking quickly, turned sharply left onto the Interstate 270 entrance ramp a few feet early, sending oncoming cars screeching to a halt to avoid hitting him, but also blocking the ramp to Rooney, who overshot it anyway due to the suddenness of Ferris's move and soared up the hill into the truck stop. The other five trailing cars filled with Karkovice's crew smashed through the blocking cars and roared down the interstate entrance ramp in hot pursuit of their quarry. Ferris pressed his foot down hard on the accelerator until it was flat to the floor and the odometer showed they were going a hundred and ten miles an hour. "Time!?" he grilled Sloane.

"Eleven forty-six, Ferris; we've got to book it," she said, glancing at her watch, then shooting a nervous glance at the ominous black cars still following, "Try and get some traffic between them and us...!"

"Already on it," Ferris weaved among the slower cars, trying to make sure the gunmen would not have a clear shot at them. Bullets could still be heard behind them, though, and it was clear Karkovice's men would not give up the chase without good cause. "How's she doing back there?" he glanced back to the back seat, where Cameron and Natalie were tending to the groaning Hale.

"Think it's just a mild concussion; she should be OK, I think," Natalie told him with a hopeful expression. She dug out her phone again. "Jim, we're southbound towards the beltway; tell me you've got something!?" she pressed him nervously.

"In fact, I just got something right now, Nat; I'll catch up as fast as I can. Better keep hurrying though; Principal Madman just commandeered a truck after his car crashed in here; he took off at well over a hundred, and I saw the murderous look in his eyes when he pulled out," Jim rambled breathlessly on the other end of the line, "So watch yourselves till I get there."

"Oh God, Rooney got a truck!?" Cameron groaned, glancing worriedly out the back window, "Would there be any way to call in an air strike on this road!?" he asked Natalie only half-jokingly.

"If only we could," she also was only half-joking in response. "Take it easy there," she rolled Hale sideways in the seat.

"How could he do this to me!?" the senator's secretary lamented, tears flowing from her eyes, "Two years, I was there at his side, I felt alive with him, and he seemed to love me. And just like that, he throws me away to avoid a scandal! I believed so much in him, and he tried to have me killed...!"

"That's a politician for you," Cameron muttered in disgust, "Well, we can help you if you'd be willing to help us for real," he offered Hale, "If you'd be willing to testify in court..."

"Yes, yes, I'm willing to help you kids for real now," Hale said firmly, sliding back up to a sitting position, "I know how to access all his files, I can give you transcripts I took of his meeting with..."

"Down!" Cameron pushed her down again as one of Karkovice's cars pulled alongside, and one of the gunmen inside started firing straight into the back of Ferris's car. "Ferris, anything...!?" Cameron grilled him.

"Thinking, thinking...!" Ferris looked around the highway in front of them. A pie truck was driving directly ahead of the gunmen's car. He was hit with a flash of inspiration-and not a moment too soon, as the pursuing car's shooter started to take aim square at him. In a flash, Ferris grabbed his wrist before he could finish aiming, twisted it sideways so it was aiming at the back of the pie truck, and pulled the trigger. The shot blasted the lock off the truck's back doors, which flew open, sending a barrage of pies flying back at the gunmen. Splattered with flying pies, they yelped and hit the brakes, breaking off the pursuit-but another of Karkovice's cars zoomed up to take its place. The driver pulled alongside and tried to ram Ferris's car. Ferris swerved quickly out of its path, narrowly missing colliding with another car in the right lane. "There, there, I-495 south, get in the right lanes and try and shake him!" Natalie pointed at the overhead sign bridge approaching.

"Actually, I've got a better idea," Ferris stayed in his lane, which would have taken him north on 495 instead, until the road had started splitting. "Hold on," he swung hard to the right, launching over the barricades and landing hard in the southbound exit ramp, rattling the car hard. The gunmen's car, after continuing forward from the surprise of Ferris's maneuver, attempted the same feat, but too much space was now between it and the southbound ramp. It fell far short of the road and crashed down the hill between both ramps. "One out of the way for sure," Ferris breathed a brief sigh of relief, "OK, what's the fastest route to the White House!?" he turned back to Natalie.

"Give me a minute," Natalie squinted her eyes shut, trying to think.

"You've lived there the last few years and you don't even know how to get there!?" Jerry snapped.

"Hey give me a break! I was in a limo half the time I went out; I don't keep track of what roads here go where!" she snapped back.

"Think fast; here comes Rooney!" Cameron had gone deathly white. Ferris heard the deafening blare of the truck horn a split second too late before his car was rammed hard from the driver's side, spinning it around in a wild circle. Ferris spun the wheel hard to try and regain control, only to then be rammed a second time, even harder. "What's the matter, Ferris, don't you want to play!?" Rooney all but screamed down from the truck's cab, looking like he'd lost all contact with reality, "All that time ditching school, and you don't want to play anymore!? Well too bad, because I'm here to play!"

He pointed his rifle out the window and sprayed Ferris's car with bullets. Ferris again slumped down in his seat, blindly trying to weave the steering wheel around and hoping he wouldn't collide with any other drivers. "Who is this man!?" a terrified Hale cried out from the back seat.

"He's our principal; he and Ferris never did get along, and I think he's gone over the edge now!" Sloane answered, screaming and sliding to the floor as another spray of bullets came dangerously close to her.

"And he took an offer from your boss to be chief of staff if he wins the presidency; he wants out of Shermer High so bad he'd be willing to do this!" Cameron chimed in, protectively sliding in front of both Natalie and Hale, although the shooting stopped at this point. Ferris dared to slide back up in his seat-and immediately saw Rooney swerving towards him again, too fast for him to get out of the truck's way. His car was slammed sideways into the interstate's sound barriers, and Rooney continued pushing his truck hard into it. Windows shattered and the sides of the car crumpled rapidly inwards, pushing Ferris against Sloane. In no more than a minute, he knew, they'd be fatally crushed. "Mr. Rooney, please, let's talk reasonable!" he cried out over the blasting of sparks and crunching of metal.

"Reasonable left the station long ago, Ferris, now it's time to die!" Rooney roared back, spinning his steering wheel even harder to the right. Ferris was pressed harder into the center of the car, the door about to impale him against Sloane. It was now or never to get out of this alive...

"Jim, get here quick, he's trying to crush us!" Natalie screamed into her phone to her de facto guardian in the rapidly contracting back seat.

"I see you, I'm on it, hold on!" Jim shouted back. The next ten seconds seemed an eternity to Ferris, but there came a loud bang, and Rooney's truck was sent jerking forward away from his car, spinning from side to side up the interstate. "Ferris!" Jim was now driving alongside him in a tour bus with the front door open, "Get over here; we'll get you out of there!"

"Watch him!" Jerry cried, pointing towards Rooney's truck starting to right itself in the lane ahead. Jim swerved to the right, as did Ferris, the bus just nicking Rooney's truck and sending it spinning again. "Help them out of there!" Jim shouted to the half dozen Secret Service agents aboard the bus with him, who swarmed the staircase and stretched out their hands. "Back seat first," Ferris slowed his car up so the back seat was level with the bus's door. He tried to maintain the same speed as the bus as Cameron and Natalie pushed Hale out the shattered window to the agents, then climbed out themselves. "You two go out the back too," Ferris instructed Sloane and Jerry.

"What about you!?" Sloane asked, worried.

"They'll get me out; go!" Ferris waved them into the back seat. "Get closer, son," he heard one of the agents shout to him once Jerry and Sloane had left the car. He swerved it as close as he could and threw the car into neutral as strong hands grabbed him and yanked him out of the shattered and crushed car. "Jim, I don't know how to thank you," he praised the assistant deputy director of media relations, plopping into the seat behind the driver's seat, "Where you get this?"

"It pulled in right after your friend back there grabbed the truck and took off after you," Jim explained, swinging the doors closed, "Had to pay the driver a fortune to use it, but looks like it was the right thing to get. You OK, Nat!?" he asked the First Daughter worriedly.

"I think so, Jim," she answered, the color starting to return to her face, "This is Kathleen Hale," she introduced Senator Tannen's secretary, "Tannen double crossed her and tried to kill her; she'll testify against him."

"Good to meet you and good to know," Jim shook Hale's hand, "As long as we don't have any further problems, I think we can get there in time to break up his press conference."

"I sent word ahead to the rest of my class to stall him; hopefully they can come through," Ferris told him.

"So what now?" Cameron asked, keeping a watch out the windows for any sign of Rooney or the other gunmen.

"I called the Metro line and explained we were working on a big presidential assignment; they'll have a train waiting for us at the West Falls Church stop on the Orange Line," Jim explained, "That should be right on I-66, which, at our current speed, we should reach in about five minutes. They promised to run it non-stop to McPherson Square, which is the closest station to the White House. From there, I guess we have to run as fast as we can to get there and break up his speech."

"We'd better hope for a long stall, then; I don't think we'd be able to get there in time otherwise," Sloane shook her head, glancing at her watch again, "Even nonstop, we'd have..."

"HERE HE COMES AGAIN!" Cameron shouted out a warning. With a strident blare of its horns, Rooney's truck pulled alongside the bus. Seconds later, the principal rammed it hard, sending it swerving across the interstate and narrowly missing cars in the other lanes. As Ferris had himself shortly before, Jim spun the wheel hard to regain control. "OK Rooney, you want to play hardball, I'm game!" he declared, a determined look crossing his face. "Everyone hold on; I'm going on offense for us!" he shouted to everyone else on board, then swerved the bus back towards Rooney and rammed his truck hard right back, sending it crashing into the median. Ferris made out a stunned look on the principal's face in the cab that his quarry was fighting back...one, however that was replaced with enraged fury. Rooney promptly swerved back and rammed the bus a second time. "I got more where that came from, Rooney!" Jim shouted, ramming the truck right back a second time, "You want it, come and get it!"

* * *

"...and so, then he said, 'A moose has antlers, but an ant rarely has mooslers!" Mr. Bueller finished a joke in his backyard, making his wife and the visiting Chiniches laugh hard (Jeannie, in contrast, rolled her eyes in disgust by the fence). "Bill at the office told me that one last week; I figured I might as well share it with the two of you."

"Good one, Tom," Mr. Chinich chuckled, "Well, I've got to go the bathroom; be back in about three minutes."

"Take your time," Mr. Bueller told him. He moved into Mr. Chinich's seat after he'd gone into the house. "Again, Katie and I are glad the two of you could make it this afternoon," he told Mrs. Chinich.

"We appreciated the invite," Mrs. Chinich commended him, "Don and I figured you'd be a little down with Ferris away on his senior trip this week..."

"Well, a little, Nancy, to be honest," Mrs. Bueller admitted, looking wistful again, "As I was telling Tom earlier, it's hard to believe my boy's all grown up now. But he earned this trip, after having made it all the way through school..."

"You mean cheated half his way through..." Jeannie muttered under her breath, but unfortunately not soft enough. "Now Jeannie, I've said I won't tolerate any more of your backtalking about your brother!" her mother warned her, "If you've got nothing better to do right now, go bring out the cake."

"Why is it always me that has...all right, all right!" Jeannie caught herself after her parents gave her another harsh glare. She stormed towards the house, muttering more softly, "No respect, no breaks at all; why me, God!?" Mrs. Bueller shook her head. "She's had it out for Ferris for some time now; her father and I have been trying to force her to be nicer to him," she told Mrs. Chinich.

"I don't see what anyone would see wrong in a nice boy like Ferris," Mrs. Chinich mused, "By the way, have you heard from him on the trip so far?"

"Nope," Mr. Bueller shook his head, "But that's probably nothing wrong. Probably he and his class are enjoying the city and there's just not enough time to..."

"Hey, everyone," Mr. Chinich stuck his head out the door, "You might want to take a look at the TV. There's a big chase going on in Washington."

"Huh?" What chase?" Mr. Bueller inquired, frowning.

"Just saw it on the screen coming downstairs; two lunatics in a truck and a bus are ramming each other while going a hundred miles an hour around the beltway," Mr. Chinich laid it out for them, "Do you think...?"

"No, Ferris wouldn't be involved in any of that...I don't think..." frowning herself, Mrs. Bueller rose up and led everyone else into the house. "Oh my," she exclaimed upon seeing the TV, which Jeannie was already standing in front of, watching intently. For Rooney's truck and Jim's bus continued to slam into each other over and over as they screamed down the interstate, oblivious to the police cars now following at a safe distance. "Oh, I hope someone can stop that; somebody's going to get hurt bad if they don't. I'm glad Ferris isn't involved in this. What set that off?"

"Who knows, Katie; like I said earlier, Washington just keeps getting crazier every day," Mr. Bueller guessed, grimacing as the two vehicles collided hard in the middle of the road again, "I know one thing for sure; O.J.'s going to be upset to know the Bronco chase just got upstaged by..."

There came a loud barking, and a furry form rushed by him out the partially open door. "Killer, no, stay away from that table!" he warned his Rottweiler, but it was too late; the dog leaped onto the table and started helping itself to some of the Chiniches' food. "Down! Bad dog!" Mr. Bueller rushed out and shouted at the Rottweiler. When that failed to dislodge Killer, he grabbed the nearest water hose and fired a spray of water at it, finally forcing it off the table. "Bad dog, inside!" he ordered, pointing towards the house. Still clutching several slices of turkey, Killer obeyed. "Sorry, Don, Nancy; when he sees free food, he always goes for it," he apologized to them.

"We'll go to the store and get you some replacement food," Mrs. Bueller offered them.

"Better let us come along; we're on very specific diets," Mr. Chinich reminded her.

"Yeah, good point. Jeannie, look after the house while we're gone," Mrs. Bueller turned to her.

"Right, right, got it," Jeannie mumbled, still transfixed at the TV.

"We shouldn't be more than fifteen or twenty minutes, honey. Let us know how that turns out if it ends before we get back," Mr. Bueller asked her, pointing at the screen. The instant he and his wife and their guests had walked out of the room, the camera on the helicopter following the chase zoomed in to clearly show Ferris in the front right window. "Of course!" Jeannie threw up her hands in disgust, "Why not!? Everything exciting always happens to him anyway. Although..." her expression twisted into something resembling concern, "I'd hate to see him die like this..."

* * *

"Why the hell don't the cops come up here!?" Jerry asked out loud, glancing at the troopers keeping a safe distance from the melee behind them.

"Would you want to get this close when Rooney's this out of control!?" Cameron countered, grabbing the railing hard as the bus took another blow from the truck, "How much more of these hits from him can we take!?" he shouted up to Jim in the driver's seat.

"If we've stayed in one piece so far, I think we should be OK," Jim shouted back.

"I-66 in one mile; we'll have to get over soon!" Sloane shouted from the front most starboard window.

"Say Ed, how about we call this even, since none of us has the advantage here!?" Jim shouted out the driver's window.

"Give me Ferris, and the rest of you can go!" Rooney shouted back, brandishing his shotgun to emphasize his point.

"Can't do that, Ed, not when you want to kill him," Jim refused.

"Then you'll all join him!" Rooney swerved towards the bus again. Jim swerved at him too, and both vehicles hit hard. They scraped hard into each other with sparks flying between their bodies. Down the road they continued flying, Jim blowing his horn to get the cars ahead of him out of his lane, while Rooney simply plowed into the cars in front of him, sending them reeling across the road. "Watch it!" Natalie shouted a warning as Rooney took dead aim at her de facto guardian. Jim ducked to avoid the rifle shot, which shattered the doors' glass, then reached up and grabbed the rifle's barrel. He strained to twist it away as Rooney groped for the trigger again, and proved strong enough to push the gun downwards by the time the principal fired. The shot thus blew out the right front tire of Rooney's truck, making the vehicle start wobbling dangerously. Jim yanked the rifle out of Rooney's hands and tossed it down to the freeway, then pulled away from the truck as fast as he could. With a loud scream of its brakes, Rooney's truck spun sideways and tipped over, shattering the trailer behind the cab. It slid rapidly up the road, flipping over repeatedly. "Ouch, that really has to hurt him," Sloane grimaced at the sight, "If he makes it through that..."

"Then he isn't human," Ferris turned away from the wreck. His eyes locked in on the right side of the road. "I-66 right here...!"

"I see it, I see it! Watch out, everyone!" Jim blew his horn repeatedly, scattering the cars in the right-most lanes as he swerved to the right to exit onto Interstate 66 west. "Station should be in about a mile, so..."

"We've still got company!" Jerry cried, hitting the deck just as gunfire from Karkovice's cars, which had sneaked up on the bus during Rooney's crash. opened fire on the starboard side. "Everyone down!" shouted one of the Secret Service agents, joining his colleagues at the window to return fire on the gunmen. One groaned and stumbled to the floor, clutching a now bleeding shoulder; the others continued their barrage. Indeed, Ferris, upon hearing the sound of another tire blowing outside, crawled on his hands and knees to the door just in time to see one of the cars crash into a tree alongside the interstate. "West Falls Church station, half mile on the left!" he informed Jim, having seen the station approaching fast on the left side of the road.

"OK, hang on tight everyone, and get on the starboard side; I've got an idea to buy us time to get onboard the train unscathed. Tim, Dwayne, Mack, hold them off while we get on the train," Jim instructed three of the healthy Secret Service men, "Sam, Bruce, bring Oscar with us; we've got a train to catch. Everyone get ready to jump out the doors...now!" he swerved the bus hard sideways to stop inside the entrance to the Metro stop, blocking the way to cars, Ferris noticed. He immediately leaped out the doors, followed by everyone else...and not a moment too soon, as the trailing villains' cars crashed into the bus, sending it leaning dangerously sideways. Jim rolled out the door from the impact, but got to his feet in a flash. "Go, go!" he waved everyone towards the stairs to the trains. The three Secret Service agents selected to remain behind formed a line behind everyone else, their guns raised protectively. Ferris dared to glance back to see one of the cars reversing away from the bus and zooming down to the other end of the parking lot, looking for an alternate way in. The other gunmen rushed around either side of the bus, their guns still blazing. Ferris ducked low to avoid any flying bullets. "Well, if nothing else, this is a lot more exciting than spending the whole day in bed, huh Cameron?" he asked his best friend, charging down the stairs to the tracks next to him.

""As long as I come out of it in one piece, Ferris, I guess so," Cameron conceded, ducking several bullets himself, "And at least the bus didn't blow up if we went under fifty."

"Of course not; that would have been a bit too obvious," Ferris said, briefly turning sideways to wink. He and his party reached the platform in a flash. A train was indeed waiting at the station, pointed towards Washington proper. "Jim Hobor, we spoke on the phone, I requested the train on a top secret government mission," Jim rapidly flashed his ID at the ticket agent, "Is everyone else off the train!? We've got company, and I don't want any civilians in harm's way."

"We messaged everyone to wait for the next train to come here in five minutes; we were going to send yours out anyway real soon if you hadn't shown up," the ticket agent told him with raised eyebrows, "What exactly's going on that you need...?"

Machine gun fire rattled down the stairwell, making her scream and dive down safely behind the counter. "Does that answer your question!? Everyone on board; don't let them get on board, guys!" Jim shouted backwards towards the trailing Secret Service agents, who shoved over a vending machine at the foot of the stairs to both block Karkovice's gunmen and create cover for themselves to return fire. The assistant deputy director for media relations waved the rest of his party into the front car of the train, shouted, "GO!" at the engineer in the cab, and dove through the doors himself seconds before they slid closed. The train lurched forward on the tracks and soon had left the station and the gunmen behind. Ferris glanced back out the window at the receding station and breathed a sigh of relief. "Hope that's the last complication," he mumbled loudly.

"Knowing our luck, probably not in the least," Cameron muttered. "How far on this?" he called through the cab's door.

"You want nonstop to McPherson Square, that should be about ten minutes," the engineer leaned backwards out the door, "What's going on that we have to tie up traffic all up the Orange Line for you!?"

"Let's just say it affects the presidency directly if we don't get back to the White House in time. I'm just..." Jim was interrupted by his cell phone ringing. "Yeah?" he activated it, "Oh hello, Mr. President, sir. Really? Well, you're coming in at the right time; we're kind of in the middle of a big chase and running gun battle...of course I'm not making it up, sir. Senator Tannen sent for his hired muscle and...yeah, we have the proof you requested, and a critical witness to everything. Yeah she is...no sir, I know how furious you'd be if anything did happen to her, Mr. President. Of course, sir. Your father for you," he handed the phone to Natalie. Ferris instinctively leaned close to listen in to the conversation, as did Cameron on Natalie's other side. "Dad, like Mr. Hobor said, we're rushing to get back to the White House to try and expose Senator Tannen; I've seen the documents he was forging to try and frame you for his development scheme back in Chicago myself," she told her father, "Where are you now?"

"We're just about to start descending to Andrews any minute now. How about you?" the president asked her.

"On the Orange Line leaving West Falls Church headed for McPherson Square."

"And you're sure you're all right, honey?"

"So far yes, Dad."

"Wonderful. OK, the moment we land, I'm going up in Marine One, and I'll try and get over McPherson Square by the time you get there. I'm directing everyone on my staff that's with me to give you and everyone else with you whatever you need," the leader of the free world said. "You just stay safe till we're in place."

"Right, thanks, Dad."

"Natalie, I just want to say...I'm so sorry," the president said, deep regret clearly evident in his voice, "I'm sorry I skipped out on your birthday, and everything else I've missed for you since we've come to Washington. I just...I guessed I really...I let being president get the better of me. And I feel terrible now that I've stepped back and taken a good hard look at myself. Seeing those photos that were sent to my account of your birthday made me realize what I was missing. I can only guess how hurt you were when I wasn't there..."

"Well yeah, it did hurt a lot," Natalie confessed somberly, "A lot of the misses hurt a lot, Dad."

"I understand. But I'm going to change all that for the better starting now. I cancelled the rest of my trip; the Bahraini king was furious, but I don't care. It's time I go back to what's really important. I'll be there when you get off the train, and we'll try and make things right going forward together."

"I appreciate it, Dad," she told him, cracking a small smile that matched Cameron's somewhat larger one next to her.

"All right, we're descending to Andrews now; I'll see you in about ten minutes. Stay safe till then, sweetheart; call me if any emergencies come up between then and now," the president said in parting before hanging up. Natalie sighed in relief. "Finally, he's trying to change," she said happily.

"Yeah, good for him," Cameron agreed, putting an arm around her, "I hoped there was still hope for him, and it looks like there is."

"Well, it looks like everything's trending in the right direction now," Jim agreed, taking the phone back. No sooner were the words out of his mouth, however, then there came a crash along the tracks to their left. Ferris spun in a flash-and was stunned to see Rooney's truck, shattered and broken, but still running, breaking through the fence separating the Metro from the interstate. There was no mistaking the look of crazed rage on the principal's face, which, coupled with the flames shooting up from the burning engine, gave the ominous impression that he was coming right out of Hell. "OH MY GOD!" Jerry's shout came seconds before Rooney rammed hard into the train, shaking it violently. "Hey, what the hell's going on out there!?" the engineer shouted, twisting several dials to try and regain control, "What in the world do you think you're doing, you lunatic!?" he shouted out the window at Rooney. With a deranged roar, Rooney hefted a Bushmaster and fired into the cab, shattering the glass and sending the engineer crumpling to the floor, bleeding. "Stop, Mr. Rooney, you'll kill innocent people!" Sloane screamed at him, waving her arms wildly out the window. Roaring once more, Rooney again slammed sideways into the train and spun his steering wheel to push hard against it. And Ferris could feel the train starting to lift off the tracks. "Everyone to the left; try and counterbalance!" he cried to everyone else, rushing to the port side of the train and pushing against the wall.

"There's no way we can hold up again even a damaged truck!" Jerry protested, nonetheless pushing hard against the rising wall with all his strength, "If we tip at this speed, there's no way we'll survive...!"

"We'll survive," Ferris glanced out the window and saw the tunnel taking the train underground rapidly approaching, unnoticed by Rooney, who was too obsessed with derailing the train, "Everyone down!" he dropped to the floor, followed by everyone else. He looked up to see Rooney turn forward and scream at the approaching tunnel, then duck down at the last minute before the truck hit the roof of the tunnel hard, sheering off the top of the cab and shattering the truck's engine in a shower of sparks and flames. The train immediately fell back onto the tracks with a loud bang that rattled everyone inside. They all slowly got back to their feet. "And if that doesn't stop him, nothing will," Ferris glanced backwards out the window to see the silhouette of Rooney stumbling of the wreckage of the truck.

"Don't tempt your luck, Ferris," Cameron warned him. They and the others rushed forward into the cab. "Are you all right!?" Sloane worriedly comforted the heavily bleeding engineer.

"Take...the throttle...don't...crash...!" the engineer begged them, gesturing up at the throttle, "And...call...Central...!"

"Right, we're on it," Jim grabbed hold of the throttle, then reached for the radio, "Hello, Central Control, my name's Jim Hobor, I called about that special top secret train to McPherson Square? Uh, we're in the middle of a big chase, our engineer's been shot; could you, uh, walk me through the basics of driving this thing?" he asked the dispatcher with a nervous expression.

"Don't tell me you government people messed this up already?" the dispatcher groaned in disgust.

"Uh, well, you see..."

"Never mind. Where are you now?"

"Uh...coming into the Ballston Station."

"And you said you wanted off at McPherson?"

"Yeah."

"All right, we'll clear the line ahead of you. You've got seven stations before McPherson; watch the platforms when you go through. Brake's on top of the controls; don't go so fast you can't stop before McPherson."

"Right, got it. Anything else?"

"Just remember that you're liable for anything that does happen," the dispatcher warned him, "Can you get the engineer off at the next stop safely?"

"Uh...I guess so."

"Slow up enough when you get close to Virginia Square; we'll try and have someone there for him," the dispatcher said in closing. "Right. Give me a hand with him," Ferris gestured at Sloane and Jerry. The three of them strained to pick the engineer up and carried him towards the first door on the right. Slowly, a light came into focus at the edge of the windows ahead of them. OK, brake it and open the doors!" Ferris shouted to the cab. The doors slid open in front of him. "On three, he told his associates, "One..."

"MORE COMPANY!" came Cameron's warning cry, seconds before bullets shattered the port side window. Ferris hit the floor hard, causing the engineer to be tossed awkwardly out the door onto the Virginia Square platform. "Sorry about that!" Ferris shouted back to the man, relieved to see bystanders rushing to attend to him. He dared to glance out the port windows to see the three remaining cars of Karkovice's gang driving alongside the tracks, firing at the train, the Secret Service agents again returning fire on them through the windows. "Don't these guys ever quit...!?" he asked out loud.

"Apparently not! Speed it up!" Jerry shouted to Jim.

"Well I've got to observe the posted speed limit...!" Jim protested.

"Lives trump limits!" Ferris rushed the cab and threw the speed control lever all the way forward. "Hey, come on, that's too fast!" Jim gasped, grabbing hold of the dashboard as the train abruptly sped up.

"Like Ferris says, better to stay alive, and pray to God they cleared the track ahead of us," Cameron argued, staring nervously out the cab windows. The cars fell slightly behind the train, but sped up to keep some pace with it. The stations zipped by in rapid succession, counting down the distance to their stop. Finally, as the train passed the Farragut West station, Jim maneuvered his hand onto the brake. "OK, this is going to be risky, but I think it's our best shot," he told everyone else, his eyes on the odometer, which was now reading a hundred and ten miles an hour, "Everyone get by the doors and prepare to jump; I hope I can slow it down enough to make this a safe exit for us."

"We trust you," Ferris told him. He joined everyone else by the front doors. Jim threw the brakes and pulled the throttle to neutral. With a loud squeal, the train started slowing as it approached the McPherson Square station. "On three...THREE!" Ferris commanded. He and his colleagues leaped out the door, rolling to a stop on the concrete. Moments later, Jim jumped onto the platform himself. "The train should block them for at least a little while, but let's move," he told the others, "Sam, Bruce, Oscar, guard the bottom of the stairs; don't let them pass," he asked the remaining Secret Service agents. The men nodded and took positions across the bottom of the stairs as Jim and the others sprinted up the steps to the street, "We should be awfully close to the White House now," the assistant deputy director for media relations mused out loud.

"Sloane, time!?" Ferris asked her.

"It's ten after eleven, Ferris; unless the others successfully stalled Tannen, or unless he's long-winded, we may be too late," she lamented.

"We're not too late; the hero's never too late when..." Ferris came to a screeching halt at the top of the stairs. For one of the gunmen's cars had gone up the other set of stairs from the opposite side of the McPherson Square platform and had beaten them to the top. "Hold still and die, Ferris!" Rooney screamed out the front car's passenger window, raising his Bushmaster and opening fire again. Ferris ducked the bullets and took off running with the others-but the other two cars swerved into position in front of them, blocking their escape. "Run them down!" Karkovice shouted to his men from the driver's seat of Rooney's car, then revved his engine and peeled towards the group, as did the other cars. "Now what!?" Natalie gasped, throwing herself around a wide-eyed Cameron.

"Uh..." was all a numb Ferris could say, staring at the cars speeding right at him. It would take a miracle now...

...and fortunately, one came, as a ladder abruptly dropped into place right in front of him. He glanced upward to see Marine One circling overhead. "Thanks, Mr. President. Grab on!" he instructed everyone else. They rapidly grabbed the ladder, and the presidential helicopter raised them up in a flash. The cars crashed hard into each other in the middle of the sidewalk. "Damn you, Simmons, bring him back here!" Rooney screamed up at Marine One, shooting blindly and inaccurately up at it, "I need to kill him!"

"Sorry, Mr. Rooney, better luck next time," Ferris waved down to his nemesis. "Yep, your father's definitely serious about redeeming himself," he called up to Natalie above him.

"And I'm glad. Thanks, Dad," Natalie called gratefully up to her father, who was now leaning out the door of the helicopter.

"Anything for you from now on, honey," the president smiled warmly down, "Where do we go now?"

"White House North Gate, and quickly," Ferris shouted at him, "And hope Senator Tannen hasn't finished his speech yet."

* * *

"I stand for motherhood, America, and a hot lunch for orphans; take off your hat, sir; while your country flag is passing...!" Rachel belted out the lyrics to a previous Shermer High Drama Club production atop the stage in front of the White House. Senator Tannen paced impatiently alongside it. "Can they just finish it up yet!?" he snapped to Mr. Jacobson at the stairs, "I really need to make this speech!"

"Well, we figured we might get the crowd pumped up for it," Mr. Jacobson suggested innocently.

"That didn't mean having the people here listen to every single student in the school giving speeches on what civics mean to them, the most boring lecture on the history of presidential elections ever given by the most boring teacher ever hired..." Tannen pointed contemptuously at a half-asleep Mr. Steinberg behind him, "...and every single song from Hello, Dolly! Are you pulling something on me here!?"

"Oh no, Senator; where would you get that idea?" the teacher posed to him.

"That's it, I can't wait any longer. You, clear the stage," Tannen barked at several Capitol police officers nearby, "I've got to get this speech in now."

"Is there some reason you have to give it now, Senator?" Mr. Jacobson gave him a knowing look.

"That's not your business, whatever you said your name was. Come on, move, move, off the stage, kids!" Tannen shouted, waving his arms at the Shermer High students as the police bustled them off the stage. The senator waved for his very pregnant wife and son and daughter to join him on the stage. "Uh, well, I hope you folks liked all that," he told the gathered crowd as calmly as he could, "Now we can get down to the real reason I've called this press conference. In a twelve year career in Washington, I've been working hard on trying to make this country great again for all the middle and lower class citizens who are cut off from the American dream. Having grown up in poverty, I know what it's like to be downtrodden, and I've made it my life's mission to make sure no one else can feel the way I once did. I supported Matthew Simmons at first, but it has become increasingly clear he's no friend of the working class, that he's turned his back on the people who need it. America, it goes without saying, deserves better. And I hope to give it better. I have therefore called all of you here to officially announce that I am declaring..."

"Look Daddy, here comes the president now," his son spoke up, pointing at the sky. Tannen looked up and stumbled backwards to see Marine One descending towards the White House. "But he's not supposed to leave Bahrain for...!" he started to exclaim, then quickly caught himself. "Well, speak of the devil, here comes Matthew Simmons right now, pompously flying like a king over all the lower class people," he said strongly, "Well, as I was saying, I'm hereby declaring my candidacy for President of the United States, because I can do better than Simmons, and will not lose..."

"What are those people doing up there?" it was his daughter's turn to point. Tannen looked up again and noticed Ferris and his friends hanging off the ladder, which was descending rapidly towards the stage. It was in fact then that they let go and dropped to the stage. "Afternoon, Senator Tannen," Ferris gave him a confident smile, "Figured we'd just drop in given the occasion."

"But...you're...this...!?" Tannen stammered for words.

"Don't worry, you backstabbing louse, you'll have plenty of time to tell both the press and my father everything," Natalie gave him a brutal glare, "Go ahead, Ferris."

"With pleasure," Ferris gently pushed past Tannen to the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, honored members of the free American press," he greeted the crowd, "It is certainly true that Senator Robert Tannen rose from humble beginnings to the position he holds now. But he has not been on the level with you with how that journey has really affected him. You see, as can happen to the best of us, Senator Tannen has let power corrupt him, and we..."

"Excuse me, son, but this is an official speech I'm trying to make here; I'll have to ask you to wait...!" a pale Tannen tried to pull him away from the microphone. Jim grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back. "No respect for freedom of the press, Bob?" he told the senator with a triumphal grin, "As you were saying, Ferris?"

"Of course. You've just met Jim Hobor, everyone, and despite holding a low position in the White House, he was a major help in the little investigation we've been taking part in," Ferris told the onlookers, "We have found concrete evidence that Senator Tannen has engaged in a scheme to enrich himself at the expense of the property rights of his Illinois constituents, as well as a plot to frame..."

Loud screams in the crowd cut him off. He looked up seconds before the car rammed into the stage, shattering its front and sending Ferris toppling to the ground. Before he could recover, strong hands grabbed him and hurled him back up onto the stage. "You thought you were going to get away from me, Ferris!? Not this time!" an insane-looking Rooney roared, slamming a foot down on Ferris's chest. "Now it's the end...!"

"Ed, please, not here, not now, not this...!" Tannen rushed forward to beg him. Rooney spun and casually popped the senator square in the kneecap. "Yes, Bob, here and now, and neither you nor anyone else is going to stop me from enacting justice...don't anyone come near me!" the principal warned the Capitol police rushing towards the platform, "Throw down your guns right now, or I kill him now!"

Disgusted, the police dropped their weapons to the ground. "Cover me!" Rooney ordered Karkovice and the other gunmen, "Don't let anyone near me till he's dead! Finally I win, Ferris! Time to die!" he screamed at his wide-eyed student, jamming his Bushmaster right between Ferris's eyes and reaching for the trigger...


	13. Ferris, Triumphant (Of Course)

"No you don't!" came a sudden shout. A large blur flew across the stage and grabbed hold of the gun just as Rooney was about to fire it, shoving the barrel upwards and sending the shot harmlessly skyward. "Frye!?" Rooney was stunned to find himself face to face with an enraged Cameron, "What the hell are you doing, you miserable coward!?"

"You're not shooting Ferris, Rooney!" Cameron barked angrily, struggling to pull the gun out of the principal's hands, "Not after all he's done for me, for everyone!"

"Let go of this gun immediately, Frye, or I'll shoot you too!" Rooney warned him, straining to maintain control of the firearm. Cameron, however, pulled it out of his grasp and took aim at Rooney. "You're just a bully, Ed! I hate bullies! My father was a bully!" he bellowed furiously, pressing the gun right between Rooney's eyes, "Well bullies are nothing but cowards, Ed! They turn fear on everyone so they can ignore their own fear! And I'm not afraid of you anymore, just like I'm not afraid of my father!"

Rooney's eyes went wide at the gun pressed against his head. They quickly narrowed, however, as he declared, "Well, if you want to shoot me, Frye, go right ahead. Go on, be the man you say you want to be, prove yourself strong. Go on, Frye, I dare you, go ahead and shoot!"

"I really ought to, Ed! You tried to kill me, you tried to kill Ferris, you tried to kill Natalie, you almost killed half a dozen people on that interstate trying to get even with Ferris! As I see it, there's no reason I shouldn't pull this trigger!" Cameron roared, reaching for it.

"Cameron, don't, please!" Sloane rushed to his side, horrified. Cameron gave her a smile. "Don't worry, Sloane; I'm not going to stoop to Rooney's level," he told her, dropping the Bushmaster to the stage floor, "But I am going to do this...!"

He spun and kicked Rooney hard in the balls. Howling in agony, Rooney doubled over. Muttering furiously, he reached into his tuxedo's inner pocket, withdrew a revolver, and took aim at both Ferris and Cameron, but howled again and dropped this gun as a shot rang out. A second shot made him topple to the stage, clutching his leg. Police and Secret Service agents belatedly swarmed the stage, pinning the principal down, and then taking down Karkovice and his gang, who'd been watching the scene unfold in stunned silence. "All right, buster, you're under arrest for attempted murder, in addition to God knows what else," one of the Secret Service men snapped at Rooney, cuffing him.

"Let go of me, you idiots! I've got to kill Ferris! He's a threat to Shermer High, to the entire country!" Rooney ranted insanely, struggling around in the men's arms as they carried him off the stage, "If he graduates, it's the end of America as we know it! For the love of God, let me go and let me kill him! You've been in league with him the whole time, haven't you!?" he angrily accused Mr. Jacobson as he was carried past his subordinate, "You and Ferris set me up to go down on this trip, didn't you!? You're fired, and I'm pressing civil charges...who the hell are you calling!?" he noticed the cell phone in the teacher's hand.

"I've been on the line with the school board the whole time, Ed, as I warned you I would be if you lost it. They've got something to say to you," looking furious, Mr. Jacobson held up the phone in Rooney's face. "ROONEY, YOU'RE FIRED!" came the school board's angry shouts on the other end.

"The hell with all of you!" Rooney barked back, spinning around so he could flash a pair of obscene gestures at the phone, "You've been conspiring with Ferris all along too, haven't you!? Well I'm suing every last one of you! This massive conspiracy against me's going to be stopped, no matter what I have to do to get at every last one of you, and Ferris! This is...!"

"Cork it, buddy; trying to kill your own students won't get you any sympathy from any of us!" the leader of the police warned him, shoving the now ex-principal into the back of a waiting cruiser. On the stage, Ferris finally hauled himself to his feet. "Cameron, I...I don't know what to say...thank you," he gratefully commended his friend.

"What the hell did I just do!?" Cameron asked out loud, visibly stunned at his act of bravery.

"Cameron, you were amazing!" Natalie rushed him and threw her arms around him, "That was the bravest thing I've ever seen anyone do! I'm so proud of you!"

"Uh..." was all Cameron could manage. He turned towards Ferris, who mouthed with a smile, _"What did you do? You proved yourself to be exactly the man_ _she_ _thinks you are. Congratulations, buddy."_ "Ladies and gentlemen," he approached the microphone again, "The man you just met was Edward R. Rooney, who Senator Tannen here," he pointed to the senator, struggling to get back on his feet on his injured knee, "was going to appoint as his chief of staff if he won the presidency. As I was about to say, we have hard evidence that Senator Tannen has been participating in a scheme to drive people out of their homes in the Chicago area so that businessmen he's been taking bribes from can..."

"OK, well, that was all good and fun, folks," limping from his gunshot wound, Tannen tried to push past him to the microphone, "Just a crazy stunt by all these kids to try and stand out on their field trip. I can assure you I'm not participating in anything illegal and..."

"Oh really, Bob!?" enraged, Hale stomped towards him, making Tannen go very pale at the sight of her, "So I'm worth killing to make sure you have no scandals to work with!?"

"Um...well...this...Kathleen, I...did I say...!?" Tannen stumbled for words.

"What's the matter, Bob? At a loss for words when the pressure's on?" President Simmons now stepped onto the platform himself, glaring at the senator, "I've heard lots of bad rumors about you profiting off the misfortunes of your constituents, and that you were planning to frame me for it so you could get the party's nomination for the next election. Any comment on that!?"

"That's...that's not true at all, Matt, I...I always respected...!" Tannen stammered.

"Bob, what's going on here!?" his wife stormed over and gave him a stern glare of her own, "Have you been doing something behind my back...!?"

"No, no, of course not, Joan; this is all a big misunderstanding...!"

"On the contrary," Ferris approached the microphone again and waved Sloane forward, "We have the confession of this man," he pointed to the now handcuffed Karkovice in the front row, "That he took money from the bank run by Senator Tannen's brother, authorized by Senator Tannen, to clear out holdout property owners from neighborhoods that Prince Construction wanted to develop. Sloane my dear, if you please," he stepped back so Sloane could play back the incriminating conversation from early in the day on her phone. "We also have, from Ronald Prince and Bert Tannen themselves, the addresses of the bank accounts the money was stashed in," he gestured Jim to bring forth the printouts, "Plus a copy of the check given to Wilson Karkovice here-whom Jerry here," he now waved his other partner forward, "Has positively identified as the man who attacked his father during one of the clearing-out operations. In addition, we also have phone records from Senator Tannen to Ronald Prince, which..."

"OK son, this joke has gone far enough," Tannen seized the microphone away from him, "I assure you I've never done any of the things you say I have, and I've never seen or spoken to this man before in my life," he gestured at Karkovice, "And if I..."

"Oh give it up, Bob; everything this young man says is true!" Hale grabbed the microphone off him in a rage and turned to the crowd, "He's been profiting from illicit funds for the last three years off Prince Construction projects, and he's about to do the same for Coakley Coal! He's going to run people out of their houses in southern Illinois so they can strip mine a state park illegally! I'll testify to everything in court; as his secretary, I've seen and heard everything!"

"Kathleen, please, no..!" a white-faced Tannen begged her frantically.

"And by the way," Hale stormed up to Mrs. Tannen, "He's been having an affair with me for the last year and a half. Said you didn't thrill him anymore and would be glad to be rid of you. And he ordered Mr. Karkovice there," she pointed at him, "To kill me this morning to cover up the affair. Thought you ought to know."

"Uh oh, someone's in big trouble now," Ferris declared, rubbing his hands together.

"It's a lie, Joan, she's...!" Tannen tried to plead to his wife, but got only a cold slap across the face for his troubles. "How the hell could you, Bob, after twenty years!?" she furiously tore into him.

"It's...this...I'm...!"

"Forget it! I never want to see you again! Let's go!" Mrs. Tannen grabbed her children's hands and led them rapidly off stage. "Joan, please, no, I can explain!" Tannen frantically tried to run after her, "This isn't what it looks like, honest, I swear! I love you more than anything...!"

"Far enough, Senator," Capitol police blocked his path, "Everything that's been brought up is probable cause for arrest."

"But...but I haven't done anything wrong, I swear...!"

"I'll turn state's evidence," Karkovice spoke up loudly from the front of the stand, "He hired me; I'll testify for a lower sentence."

"You were saying about a mistake, Bob!?" the president walked over and glared at him, "This seems proof positive to me. Anything to say for yourself!?"

Tannen's mouth hung open, but no sound came out. "What he means to say," Ferris picked up the pace, "Is that he would have gotten away with it if it hadn't been for us meddling kids. Jerry, a few words of your own?" he handed the microphone to his friend. Jerry stormed up to Tannen. "On behalf of my dad, take that, you crook," he told Tannen coldly.

"Let's go, Senator," the police started to lead Tannen off the platform towards a waiting cruiser; others on street level rounded up and led off Karkovice and his cronies as well. "Shermer High Drama Club, all together now," Ferris waved them onto the platform, "A one, a two: goodbye, Bobby, well goodbye, Bobby," he led them in a variation of Hello, Dolly's main song, "it's so nice to see you go where you belong, so, enjoy your cell, Bobby; hope they don't treat you well, Bobby; Bobby'll never come back here again!"

The song got a few claps from the crowd, still clearly in shock from everything that had gone down. President Simmons now approached the podium. "Well, I guess there's not much more I could say," he told the assembled crowd, "Except of course to thank everyone who helped to expose this plot," he gestured at Ferris and the others. "Their initiative to bring Senator Tannen's scheme to light is highly commendable. I have something to admit: since I became president, I lost track of the average working people out there. I got so engulfed by this job that it took over every bit of my mind, my life. In short, I almost became what Bob Tannen seems to have become. I forgot what was truly important," he shot a regretful glance back at his daughter, "But thanks to what these kids and everyone else have done, now I see more clearly again that what truly makes America great is the hearts of its everyday citizens, young and old. And I pledge to restart my presidency to really try and help Americans who need it. Should anyone in the party wish to run a primary campaign against me, they're free to do so, but now, I feel like I'm a wiser man, a man who knows the right thing to do for the most possible people now. Thank you, and God bless America."

He got a reasonably steady applause from the crowd, which started to slowly disperse. He then bustled over towards Ferris and the others. "As I said, thank you, all of you, for bringing this to light," he thanked them, "If there's anything I can do to reward you all..."

"Oh no, Mr. President, no rewards are necessary," Ferris told him, "Just being able to help and get justice for Jerry's family and anyone else Tannen might have hurt is reward enough for us. Besides, it's Jim Hobor here you should really thank," he pointed to the White House staffer, "He first realized something was up after he happened upon the Tannen's phone records and decided to follow up on it. He told me that himself."

"Huh?" Jim frowned, confused.

"Well, Jim, good job," Simmons commended him, "I think this calls for at least a major promotion; clearly you're a more valuable member of our team than your current position would have it."

"Uh, well...t-t-thank you, Mr. President, sir," Jim stammered, grateful.

"Thank YOU. You all right, honey?" the president turned to Natalie and hugged her.

"Yeah I am, Dad. I'm so glad you came back," she said, tears of joy flowing to have him back.

"Like I said on the phone, Natalie, I'm so sorry about everything. I'm going to be a better father going forward, I promise. I hope you had a great birthday-it looked like you did. If you want, we can throw another party tonight..."

"Nah, we don't need to, Dad. Truth is, I had the best day of my life yesterday, thanks to Cameron and his friends," she smiled at him.

"Who?" her father looked up.

"Uh, Cameron Frye, Mr. President, sir," Cameron stepped forward with a nervous expression, "We, uh, just happened to cross paths with Natalie, and, uh..."

"Cameron saved me from drowning while you were gone," Natalie picked up for him, "And he gave me a big ring for my birthday too..."

"Drowning!?" the president turned pale, "Oh my God...if that had happened...!" he hugged his daughter tight again, "Now I'm doubly glad I left that summit...well, young man, I have to insist on a reward for you," he turned to Cameron with a grateful expression, "So what do you want more than anything in the world?"

"Well, uh, sir, nothing that you can give..." Cameron mumbled, glancing at Natalie.

"Cameron's been in love with Natalie since he saw her on TV for the first time, Mr. President sir," Ferris cut in, "Now he doesn't mean to intrude, but just being able to spend the rest of our senior trip here at the White House with her would be reward enough for him. In fact, to be completely honest, our whole class spent last night here after our original lodging plans fell through, so..."

"Say no more. You and your class are welcome to stay here as long as you want," Simmons declared, smiling warmly at Cameron, "You seem like a fine young man indeed, Cameron Frye."

"He's the bravest and sweetest boy I've ever known, Dad," Natalie put an arm around Cameron, who managed a deep smile for once.

"Well, why don't we go in and celebrate your birthday in some way-I feel I really need to do something," the president led his daughter towards the gate, "I don't want to miss anything else."

"I appreciate it, Dad. Come on, everyone," Natalie waved Ferris and Sloane to follow them. "Come on," Ferris turned and waved the other Shermer High seniors to follow him in turn. "I just love it when everything comes together," he told Sloane with a firm nod.

"And I love it that Cameron finally found the right girl," Sloane smiled happily at Cameron and Natalie leaning against each other in front of them, "He deserves it, even if you had to inflate him to her a bit."

"Hey, I knew he had it in him. I just had to help goad it to the surface and let him do the rest," Ferris said, "Well, anyway, there's still so much left to do on this trip while we have the time: first of course, we have to try out Natalie's zip line, and I want to play a round in the White House bowling alley. Then we've got to finish up at the Air and Space Museum and the Capitol with what we didn't get to see there before. Plus, I'd like to see Mount Vernon, take in Arlington National Cemetery, visit a few more of the Smithsonian museums, and I think Woodrow Wilson's house in the city sounds good...

* * *

"What do you know?" Jeannie managed a small smile back in Shermer at the sight of Tannen being driven away from the White House in a cruiser, "He actually pulled the whole thing off..."

The front door opened. "We're back, honey," her father announced, entering the kitchen with several bags of groceries, "How'd the chase end?"

"Um...well, they cut away," Jeannie said quickly, glancing at the set as if expecting Ferris to be on there, but the feed had cut back to a studio anchor, "Senator Tannen just got exposed as a crook who was taking bribes; they decided that was more important to cover."

"Oh did he now?" Mrs. Bueller stared at the screen, "Oh well, with how corrupt every politician in this state is, it's not a surprise. Well, help us re-set everything up outside, Jeannie; we're not done with the Chiniches yet."

* * *

ONE MONTH LATER...

"...a spectacular fall from grace concludes, as Senator Bob Tannen and eight other co-defendants, including his brother Bert Tannen, construction magnate Ronald Prince, and coal baron Jimmy Coakley, were indicted on a multitude of charges, including racketeering and bribery," the WLS news anchor reported on the Buellers' television set, "Once poised to make a run for the presidency, Tannen today resigned his Senate seat in disgrace. In a somewhat surprising move, Governor Haroldson named as an interim appointee to the seat current White House assistant deputy director of media relations Jim Hobor, a native of Rockford, who was reportedly a participant in the efforts to expose Tannen's crimes..."

"And we toast the best possible man to hold the job," Ferris raised a glass of Coca-Cola towards the screen, which switched to an interview of Jim telling reporters that, even if his appointment would be short, he was committed to genuinely doing his best for the people of Illinois as a senator, "Congratulations, Mr. President, for giving him this as a reward. And I know someone's doubly happy that this is how it all turned out..." he turned with a smile to Jerry in the chair next to him.

"More than you can know, Ferris. So let me just say thank you so much for everything you've done for me," Jerry told him gratefully, "I'm sorry I ever doubted you..."

"Hey, when Ferris says he's going to help someone, you can always trust him to come through," Sloane told him, having a sip of her own soda.

"Then why am I still waiting for my promised reward, Ferris!?" Jeannie grilled him with a glare from the doorway.

"Patience, Jeannie, patience. I put in for it," Ferris assured her.

"Put in for what!?"

"You'll see. And for extra good news..." Ferris grinned at the screen, where the reporter was now continuing: "...in related news, former Shermer High School principal Edward R. Rooney was also indicted today on twelve counts of attempted murder, including several against his own students, as well as a plethora of additional charges from reckless endangerment to illegal use of firearms without a permit, all committed during a wild rampage on the Washington, D.C. interstate system. He faces a maximum of several decades in prison; Rooney's attorney has been pleading for lesser time in jail after raising questions about the former principal's sanity. The Shermer school board had no comment other than to reiterate that Rooney is no longer connected with their school in any capacity, and that they had appointed Mr. Thomas Jacobson, a long time teacher in the district, as the interim principal until a more permanent candidate can be found. In other news..."

"And so the tyranny ends," Ferris raised his glass again, "First Mr. Vernon gets shown the door, and now no more Mr. Rooney either. The school's now free for everyone to express themselves, which I hope next year's senior class will take the chance to do," he gave Sloane a knowing wink.

"We'll do the best we can, I promise that, Ferris," she grinned back.

"Do what?" Mr. Bueller came down the stairs.

"Mr. Rooney's facing hard time for his rampage in Washington," Cameron explained, looking less happy than everyone else.

"I'm not surprised," Mrs. Bueller shook her head, entering the room behind her husband, "That man always seemed a step away from the edge. Do you believe that when you were sick that day in the spring, Ferris, he called me up at work to insist you were skipping school?" she told her son, "I told him I had no idea where he'd gotten that idea from, and now I still don't know where he came up with it."

"I don't know what he was thinking either, Mom," Ferris shrugged innocently while Jeannie rolled her eyes in disgust, "Mr. Rooney always seemed to be utterly paranoid to me."

"I'd believe it," she agreed, "Shermer High's better off without him. And I thought I heard upstairs that Senator Tannen's going to jail too. I know that makes someone happy," she turned to Jerry.

"It does, Mrs. Bueller. In fact, I forgot to mention earlier, my dad's been hired for the construction company that's going to redevelop the neighborhood again; it's an office job on the site, so he won't have to overexert himself, and it pays well," Jerry told her excitedly, "So it looks like I won't have to give up college after all."

"That's wonderful," Mr. Bueller beamed, "Good to know that..."

He was interrupted by the doorbell ringing. "Now who could that be?" he frowned, bustling over to it. A well-dressed man was waiting outside when he opened it. "Can I help you?" he asked, confused.

"Mr. Tom Bueller, father of Ferris and Jeannie Bueller?" the newcomer asked.

"Yes. What do you...?"

"I'm authorized to deliver the following gifts to them," the man turned and pointed to the driveway. Ferris ran to the window, and rubbed his hands in delight. For sitting outside in the driveway were two brand new Ferarris. "Oh no," Cameron groaned behind him, "I told you I never wanted to see another Ferrari as long as I lived, Ferris...!"

"I don't believe it..." Jeannie was stunned, stumbling out the door, "He actually came through..."

"Who came through? Who are these from?" Mr. Bueller asked the man with a perplexed expression.

"He wished to remain anonymous, Mr. Bueller," the man told him, "He knew your kids wanted new cars, however, and this is his way of saying thank you to them."

"Um, well, we appreciate it," an equally confused Mrs. Bueller stepped outside as well, "I don't know what might have brought this about...we took away Jeannie's car after she skipped school a few months ago, so..."

"Oh, you're still upset over that, Mom? Then I should tell you, she told me afterwards, she left that day because she was worried about me and wanted to check up on me," Ferris explained quickly.

"She did?" Mrs. Bueller stared at her daughter. "Uh...yeah, yeah, that's why I was out of school, Mom; I wanted to check on him," Jeannie nodded rapidly, "I didn't say anything because of how mad you were...if you want to give this one back..."

"Oh no, I think we can keep it," Mrs. Bueller turned to her husband, who nodded, "If you'd just said you'd come back to check on Ferris then, maybe we wouldn't have...I guess we have been carrying out the punishment too long. You can have the car, Jeannie."

"Thanks," Jeannie's face lit up.

"This one's yours," the man pointed to the one on the right, "You're is this one," he told Ferris, pointing to the other one, "Be sure to check the glove compartment before you drive it. Congratulations on graduating high school. Good day, everyone," he bade the Buellers farewell before sauntering off to his own car. "Well, this is sure a pleasant surprise," Mr. Bueller declared, examining the cars up close, "But I guess it's well-deserved-certainly my boy deserves the best for graduating," he rubbed Ferris's shoulder warmly, "Well, let's go get ready," he checked his watch, "The Fourth of July fireworks start in forty-five minutes, and parking's going to be at a premium."

"Give me a hand with the cooler, Tom; I packed it pretty full," Mrs. Bueller asked him. She and her husband bustled back indoors. "Ferris, I don't know what to say..." Jeannie approached her brother, looking genuinely grateful.

"I may twist the truth sometimes, but a promise is a promise, Jeannie. I told you I was grateful for you bailing me out when Rooney had me in his grasp, and this is the proof," Ferris gestured at her Ferrari, "Besides, you were a big help in bringing Tannen down, and didn't I say you had a reward coming for that? So are we even now?"

"Well, it's a start," she frowned again, "But it's a good start. Thank you, Ferris, and I mean it honestly."

"Jeannie, come give us a hand with the refreshments," he mother called from inside the house. Rolling her eyes, Jeannie nonetheless trudged back inside. "He said to check the glove compartment," Ferris opened the driver's side door of his Ferrari, "Let's see what else the president's giving us as a reward..."

He popped open the glove compartment and extracted a piece of paper. "For you," he handed it to Jerry. Jerry's eyes went wide at the sight of it. "He got me accepted to Northwestern's medical school, and paid off all the tuition!" he exclaimed happily.

"Wonderful," Sloane commended him, "Now you can be a doctor after all. And what else...scholarships for you and Cameron!" she exclaimed to Ferris as he extracted two more pieces of paper from the glove compartment.

"Looks like it...and one for you too when you graduate," Ferris handed one to her as well, "Sure, school might be a drag lots of the time, but college can probably be...everything OK, Cam?" he asked his friend, who still looked glum, "You still miss her, don't you?"

"To be honest, yeah. But what good was it going to be? She has her world, and I have mine," Cameron mumbled sadly, "I knew it didn't have long term legs..."

"But you enjoyed it, didn't you?" Sloane pressed him.

"Yeah. It was wonderful. And it was great to know she genuinely cared for me. But..."

"No buts here, Cameron. Tis better to have aimed high and failed to fully accomplish the goal then never to have tried at all, especially in love," Ferris assured him, "And.." he dug deeper into the glove compartment, "It looks like she sent along something as well for you..."

He handed a heart-shaped box of chocolates with an envelope attached to his friend. Cameron rapidly opened the envelope and read the letter inside. Ferris leaned over his shoulder to read himself: DEAR CAMERON: THANK YOU FOR THE GREATEST BIRTHDAY A GIRL COULD HAVE. I'LL ALWAYS BE GRATEFUL FOR THAT, AS WELL AS YOU SAVING ME. LET ME KNOW WHERE YOU'RE GOING TO COLLEGE; THAT'S WHERE I'D LIKE TO COMMIT. CONTACT ME AT THE PHONE NUMBER AND E-MAIL ADDRESS BELOW ANY TIME. YOURS TRULY, NATALIE. Cameron sniffed happily. "She didn't forget..." he mumbled happily.

"How could she when you clearly made a strong difference in her life?" Sloane put her arm around him with a smile, "You've hooked a great girl, Cameron Frye."

"Indeed he has," Ferris patted him on the shoulder. He climbed into the Ferrari and slid into the driver's seat. "I love it when a plan comes together."

"And it was a great plan, Ferris," Jerry thanked him once more, "Well," he checked his watch, "I've got to get going; it's my job to drive Dad to work. Thank you again, all of you, for everything," he commended Ferris and his friends.

"Glad to help, Jerry Greenfield," Ferris told him with a grin. He watched Jerry walk off up the street, while Sloane and Cameron went back inside the Bueller house, answering his father's call for more assistance. He sighed happily and leaned back in the Ferrari's driver's seat, his arms folded behind his head. "I've said it before, and I'll say it once more for old time's sake," he declared, looking up as if to wish farewell to a friend, "Life moves by pretty fast; if you don't stop and look around once and while, you might miss it. But if you don't make the best of it and use it for good, you're only squandering it. So make the best of your lives, for the benefit of everyone you know. Well, that's all folks; that's the end of the story. Might as well head on home now..."

THE END


End file.
